Save Me
by eltda
Summary: Arthur knows there's something odd about him, something that makes him mad with confusion. With the help of his manservant, Merlin, Arthur will begin to learn to cope and accept himself, creating an unusual bond between the two. Ch's. 3-4 Romance begins!
1. Incident First Sight

**WELCOME TO MY STORY****.**

**THE FIRST CHAPTER IS FOCUSED ON THE DAY MERLIN ARRIVES CAMELOT, IT IS PRETTY MUCH BASED ON THE FIRST EPISODE OF SERIES ONE. I DO MAKE SOME CHANGES TOWARDS THE END. **

**PLEASE NOTE THAT I SIMPLY BEGAN MY STORY IN SUCH WAY TO HAVE A STARTING POINT, I DEVIATE FROM THE SERIES BEGINNING CHAPTER 3. **

**THIS STORY IS LABELED M AS IT WILL HAVE SUITABLE FOR ADULTS ONLY MATERIAL. IT WILL NOT HAPPEN RIGHT AWAY, BUT IT IS SOMETHING THAT MAKES ME A LITTLE NERVOUS. I WILL LET YOU KNOW WHEN THE TIME APPROACHES.**

**ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND PLEASE REVIEW.**

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_Ch. 1 Incident (First Sight)_

The sun shone strong and angry. Merlin's scarce shoulder bag suddenly felt too heavy as he descended the path his map directed. Sunrays penetrated his pale tone, etching with them a temporal brown accent on his exposed skin. It had been a long two days of traveling and he barely had enough food to sustain himself for another day. He glanced at his map again, unsure he was on the right direction but, as it turned out, he was approaching the castle by the minute. This knowledge brought him excitement and fear, both in immeasurable quantities; he was not someone who was really accustomed to new experiences. His mother had sent him to an old friend of hers whom she often spoke fondly to him about.

He continued through the rocky path, miraculously able to keep on walking, his legs should have given up on him a while ago. As a commoner, he didn't own a horse and neither could he borrow one, if he had been able, the journey would have not taken its toll on him physically as it was doing it now. Merlin was really not used on exerting a great deal of physical effort. He knew this too, the sweat on his forehead began to bother him, but little could he do about it as every time he wiped it off new drops of perspiration began to roll down his face. It was utterly annoying.

After another short period of walking he could, distantly, see the menacing castle take form; and even at closer distance the lower town appeared more reachable with every step.

_This is it,_ Merlin thought to himself, the sole purpose of going there made his heart swell. He had heard of Camelot more than enough times to know it by heart without having once stepped a foot there. With every step, a newfound liberty seemed to engulf him. It was the type of liberty one sought after feeling incarcerated for a long time within one's self. It had all to do with one's mind and much more specifically, the discontent Merlin felt at his repetitive and routinely life back in Ealdor. Of course, he would miss his mother terribly and the few people he left behind. And it wasn't exactly that he felt above the people, he rather _was_ if not above, on a different level. Not necessarily a better one, to say the least.

The square was gathered with townspeople, looking attentively, congregating at the event being held, one that appeared to be a procession. Merlin approached the center of the commotion to take a better look. He had barely been aware of the guards that acknowledged his arrival at the entrance gates.

He took a quick glance at his surroundings, marveling at the architecture of the castle, of the fort that it made, arched in a way to protect itself with thick walls and barriers. He marveled at the stony ground, looking for any pattern in particular that the shades of stones appeared assembled in, failing to recognize one and simply acknowledging their random impression. The towers of the castle seemed to reach the sky, and when he looked up, he could barely take in the form of a figure moving in one of them. The short stone bridges that connected each tower intimidated Merlin. It was nearly impossible for him to believe for such construction to be possible...

All too soon, Merlin was brought back from his short reverie by the loud noise of a trumpet. The noise came atop the main tower on a balcony, where a man stood with a hard expression, clearly disgusted. It seemed as if it insulted him a great deal the motives of the event.

The man, who by the crown on his head indicated to be the king, spoke to the people:

"Let this be a remainder to all of you" –he paused- "that the evil upon us known as magic must be banished from the kingdom. It has, and will always be in my ruling, to eradicate magic from Camelot completely and maintain prosperity at all costs." The king offered a glance at the man who was chained at his feet and wrists. He forced himself to speak to him, and indeed, it to great effort.

"You will now pay the consequence of your actions."

All the while, Merlin's heart seemed to frantically beat. He reached a point where it was visible enough for him to see that this was no event and no procession, it was an execution. He felt lightheaded, but couldn't make himself stop from watching, it was important as it was miserable for him to watch.

The man said nothing at first, simply rising his head, proud, looking at the king in a stance that would indicate he was below him. "You might order for my death, but you will never be able to order away the pride of being who I am. I feel pity for you and your bigotry," the man spoke with dignity, his ferocious eyes attempting to pierce through the king, but they failed.

The king's expression remained calmed simply bothered, and soon after the man's remark he signaled the executioner- with the blink of an eye and a silent _whoosh_, the man was no more. He'd banished and his head now lay on the wooden platform, a pool of blood forming where it had and where it continued to spill. Merlin noticed how fresh blood mixed with the bloodstained wood from previous executions. His stomach turned in revulsion.

Merlin's breathing quickened, his mind was wreaking havoc, altering his heart rate, hastening the throbbing in his head. He felt ill, but there was nowhere he could hold for support, he bent his knees, placing each hand on them. The added stress with his fatigue was making him extremely weak. He fought the tears that welled up in his eyes, trying very, very much not to cause any attention.

All of the sudden a loud scream erupted from one of the townspeople. A scream of pain that pierced on Merlin's ears. The sound belonged to that of a woman's. Merlin searched the square to find the woman but he didn't need to, she was standing next to the corpse. Anger and bloodlust were visible in her eyes, but in spite that, Merlin could not bring himself to be afraid of the woman. Instead, he pitied her, as it was clear, clearer than her anger by her previous scream, that she was hurt by the death of the young man.

The woman directed herself to the king who merely bothered to look at her."You will pay for this Uther Pendragon," she almost screamed the words.

But king did not take the woman seriously and quickly attempted to remove her from the square, "take her away," he commanded to the guards.

The woman stood still and watched the men approach her. Merlin noticed her ragged appearance, with gray and long hair covering most of her face, her body was dressed in a long and old brown dirty robe, and her face ancient with the pain she suffered. As the men closed in on her, she directed herself one more time to Uther and warned, "eye for an eye Uther, you killed my son, I shall kill yours. He shall die by the end of your celebrations." The woman smiled maliciously at the guards before pronouncing, "forbæ cumæ turin" and she began to burn. A strong wind formed around her, sheathing her inside the fire. Merlin's eyes widened in disbelief as the woman disappeared into thin air, leaving no sign of previous presence, and no damage was left where the elements had been casted.

Uther looked down to his people, somewhat unsure as how to proceed, more concerned at the woman's caveat than her use of magic. He simply acknowledged the people, raising a hand and turning to leave.

The young boy stood in place while a mostly shocked crowd began to disperse into their daily obligations. Not wanting to appear suspicious, Merlin did the same. He walked around, trying to clear his mind of what he had just witnessed. He knew that magic was banned from Camelot, but he had not an idea of the terrible consequences that it could bring -though he didn't know what the man had been accused of either. He pondered this as he continued to walk without direction, bumping into people here and there, receiving meaningful looks as he apologized. He wished he knew what the man had been accused of, what kind of violation he must have accomplished in order to receive such fate.

The boy suddenly wondered if leaving while he could would be the best idea, that way, no one would be the wiser.

He continued to walk, paying more attention now as he went. It was difficult for him to focus. With great effort, he forced away any more distractive thoughts that could occupy his mind and headed for the castle.

Merlin didn't know his way around entirely as he would have believed. The vague descriptions he used to hear from others in Ealdor didn't turn out to be accurate. He approached an entrance from the west side of the castle assuming only royalty and noblemen were allowed through the main doors.

Two guards at each side of the small entrance held their swords, forming an X to prevent him from entering.

"What's your business here?" one of the guards asked.

"I'm looking for the court physician."

"That way" said the same guard, removing his sword, and signaling the other guard to do the same.

If the castle from an outside view had awed Merlin, from inside it was truly majestic. And it was enormous. The hall in which he stood was stretch and ample, the white walls adorned with what appeared to be antique oil paintings and decorative armory. The arched ceiling with hanging candelabras radiated with presence. Merlin could only marvel at the architecture and darkly smiled at the thought of magic being involved with the construction. Because it was magical. The variety of castles he only heard in stories and fables. He walked in the direction the guards had led him and ran into a flight of stairs, reaching a small door at the top. The door was open and he simply allowed himself in.

An old man stood on the second level of his chamber. He seemed to be sorting through some books, or maybe simply organizing them. Merlin cleared his throat, trying to be subtle, but the old man seemed too focused on his work. "Hello. Gaius?" the boy asked.

The man, startled, turned ungraciously to look towards the source the sound had come from, losing his balance and falling to the ground. Only he realized he didn't really fall. Somehow he had managed to suspend in mid air, but after another second, he felt gravity finish the trick on him and finally fell. Instead of hitting the rock hard ground as he anticipated, however, he found himself landing on top of an old and rusty divan. The man, confused at the chain of events, stared at the boy standing a few feet away from him. His eyes the color of maple and honey, except there was something else that he noticed, and it terrified him -the eyes of the young boy _glowed._ The old man saw Merlin's eyes shift color, reducing their intensity, and settling into their normal liquid light blue color.

Merlin, terrified himself of having performed such act, simply smiled shyly at the old man who was having trouble adjusting to what he just observed.

The man sat motionless for a fraction of a second, sure that the divan had not been there just a minute ago."What did you just do?" he asked alarmed.

"No-nothing," Merlin replied.

"Did you just perform.. magic?"

Merlin's eyes widened. There was no way around it. Even though he had always tried to attribute his abilities to a different cause, he knew deep inside that there was not an explanation. And furthermore, he knew that there was no point in denying the fact, because where would he stand? What would the weight of his lie carry against the truth of the man who lived in the castle?

"Yes," he said, only his tone appeared more mischievous than apologetic.

The man nodded seriously, more to himself than Merlin and warned him, "It will be better for you to abandon the use of magic here."

Merlin sighed in relief, surprised at the simple advice from the man. He knew he should've taken the man's words with caution, but instead, he couldn't help with answering, "but, if I hadn't used magic, you would have fallen and hit the ground."

The old man, though surprised with the boy's answer, wasn't quite sure if Merlin was selfless or if his instinct of self-preservation just wasn't there. He assumed that perhaps the boy wasn't all that aware of the consequences for the use of magic.

"If anyone, by the slightest of coincidence had walked in while you" -he looked at Merlin with warm eyes- "helped me, he or she would have ran to Uther and accuse you."

The boy stared at the man.

"But, you will not." It wasn't a question, it was clear that if the man had wanted to expose him, he would have gone straight to the king, instead of lecturing him.

The man didn't respond.

"Who are you?" he asked instead, leaving Merlin without an affirmation to his comment, and making him a little unsure now.

"Um, I'm Merlin, I come from Ealdor. My mother sent me here, I've got a letter for you actually." He reached into his bag and produced a letter from inside. The man took it mechanically without removing his eyes from the boy.

"Sit down," the man offered gently, and Merlin followed. He assumed the boy must be tired from his journey, "are you hungry?" he asked him.

"I've been traveling for two days," he reached into his bag again, " this is all the food I have left."

The man took the contents and placed them on his small table, which appeared to double as laboratory of some nature. He then took a loaf of bread from a cabinet nearby and placed it on the same table, taking a knife and cutting a generous slice. The man followed to bring some cheese and a bottle of something Merlin wasn't sure he could name the contents of. He placed the cheese and bread on the table in front of him and poured some of the contents of the bottle into a small chalice styled cup.

"Eat," the man suggested before asking, "how is your mother?"

Merlin looked at the man a little surprised, "you know my mother?"

"Yes," the man said with what appeared an obvious tone, "surely your mother told you about me," he continued, reaching for the letter and waving it at him.

"I mean, how do you know it was _me_ and not someone else? My mother said she wasn't sure you knew about me."

The man laughed. "You come from Ealdor, I know but a few people there, and well, never mind that. Eat."

"My mother is well, thank you." He took a sip from the cup and finished the contents with a single gulp. He had been so thirsty and tired this morning when he discovered that the relativity of his basic physical needs were minimal when in comparison with the relativity of his endangered existence –even if he had very present that he required both.

"I'm glad to hear, but I am worried she sent you here, this is not a safe place for you."

"She said you were the only one who could help me." Merlin said this, and his eyes filled with such hope, the man felt pity for the young boy.

"You realize that if Uther finds out about your magic he will have you killed?"

"The man today, he wasn't simply sentenced to death for possessing magic, was he?" Merlin's own doubt indicated that if he had to ask, it was very much a possibility.

"No, he caused chaos all over town, tried to have people unite with him and form a rebellion against Uther. Of course, nobody followed him. Uther ordered his capture and sentenced him to death just yesterday."

Merlin sighed in relief once more. Surely if he could keep from being the cause of any disorders there would be no need for such extreme measure of consequences.

"Don't be fooled Merlin. Uther would have ordered the capture of the man regardless of his actions. He does not tolerate magic, and that for him, is final."

"Why?"The boy asked, shifting around his sit, the anxiety had him on edge.

The old man knew the exact reason as well as the king, but he couldn't reveal the real origin that caused the ban of magic. He labored the most accurate reason that neared the truth. "A score ago Uther had all magic banished from Camelot, as he feared the use of such would divide the kingdom and would bring war. He had all those who had magic hunt down and burnt. Simply hosting or helping someone with magic guaranteed the death sentence, and does still guarantee it now."

"But I don't even know if what I have is really magic." The boy retorted.

"It does not matter, if Uther was to find out you have any kind of abnormality, he would have you killed."

"I'm not a bad person," Merlin said quietly.

"I'm sure you're not," the man replied kindly, "but the king will not see or hear reason. It is simply that way, and if you really wish to stay, you better learn to control those impulses in front of people," he complained, referring to Merlin's impromptu use of magic a short while ago.

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The next morning, Merlin woke up feeling disoriented. He went through the events of the previous day. They seemed dreamlike. The man, Gaius, as he had confirmed, promised to help him. Something that he should attribute to the content of the letter his mother had written. Merlin wondered briefly if it had been a nightmare, if he had really been present in an execution the first day of his arrival at Camelot. It appeared so vivid. He could clearly remember the loud scream of pain from the woman. He thought of taking that as an omen, but how could he? He decided he was glad (as glad as he could be for the death of a man) that it was a type of warning, a showing of what was to happen to him should anyone else besides Gaius was to find out about him.

Merlin shook away all thoughts and proceeded to dress himself. He wasn't sure what to expect for his day, and despite everything else, it was something that excited him.

"Gaius?" he called as he descended the short steps from his new bedroom to the small main room of the chamber. But there was no one in sight. He looked out the window and noticed that it was mid morning. Gaius must be attending the king, or an ill person, collecting herbs and plants for all he knew. This made him realize that he would need to pay close attention to what Gaius exactly specialized in- as part of the pretense of coming here was to aid the aging man. Which of course he would gladly do, and it _was_ the least of what he could do in return anyway.

The boy suddenly felt his stomach growl in protest. It surprised him how hungry he was. There was a bowl at the center of the small table filled with fruit. Among the fruit lay a single apple, and for some reason, Merlin's mouth began to water. He took the apple from the bowl with certain urgency, almost anxiety and bit it. The juice from it felt good going down his throat. The texture the apple had was exquisite, the skin of it smooth and with a pleasant scent. He shivered lightly with the feeling the experience brought upon him and smiled. He followed to eat some bread before heading out the door, hoping to have a better experience today exploring the town than he did yesterday.

Outside, the day was beautiful. Merlin walked around the town for most of the morning and until the sun was high above, casting its rays directly over the town. It seemed like a cheerful place to live. Men went about their day with their occupations; some farmed, others welded, and some stood around the castle, guarding it from any harm that might come. Women seemed to carry a force of their own, too. Merlin saw a few carrying their scant amount of clothes and their family's out to dry. Some fed the chickens and some came in and out of the castle, running errands for their masters. Of course, what Merlin mostly saw were merely the many jobs of the lower class, the poor people. Strangely enough however, it was few the times he came across petulant faces.

Once, when he was walking around the square, he saw a young woman come out of the castle. Her black hair tied back, and her ragged clothes those of a servant. She seemed content, even though she carried a heavy basket.

Merlin chivalrous as he was, decided to offer a helping hand to the girl.

"Need help?" He asked, smiling as he approached the girl.

"Thank you" said the girl.

Merlin reached his hand out to grab one side of the basket, dividing the weight of it between the two when the girl took her side of the handle.

They both walked in silence for a while. The girl, Merlin thought, was shy. He noticed she was beautiful, her darker skin made contrast with his pale tone, and somehow he felt nervous.

"This is really heavy" Merlin commented.

"Yes, it is. It's for my mistress. She needs me to wash her clothes, but I didn't want to travel twice to fetch all of them." The girl smiled at him.

"Oh," He replied.

"Did you just arrive here?" The girl asked, and when Merlin gave her a look, questioning her knowing, she simply said, "I've never seen you around before, I just thought that might be the reason."

"I got here yesterday, I come from a small town by the name of Ealdor."

"I've never heard of it, I've lived all of my life here, and I don't very often leave Camelot." She looked up at him, a little embarrassed.

"I'm Merlin, what's your name?"

"Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen."

"Which do you prefer?" he asked, smiling.

The girl seemed to lose her train of thought for a moment. "Gw- Gwen is fine."

They walked again in silence for another while, until the girl's home appeared in sight.

"I live in that house, on the corner," she said. It was strange for the girl, she never felt at a loss of words, usually she was chatty and high spirited. The boy, she thought, seemed to be nice enough. It made her worry that she was unable to have a simple conversation with the boy named Merlin when he was being such a gentleman.

She looked up at him again and asked, "What brings you to Camelot?"

"I came here to help my mother's friend, Gaius, which I believe you know him."

The girl's face lit up with a smile. "You'll be working in the castle?"

"Yes, I believe so," he said, replying with a smile of his own.

They reached the house of the girl after another short walk. Merlin, for some reason unknown to him, felt protective of the girl, noticing the old house to appear unsuitable for her.

"Do you live here by yourself?"

She eyed him with certain suspicion, but she could hear that his question revealed no intention, "No, I live here with my father, he's the king's welder."

He relaxed and simply smiled."I should get back, in case Gaius needs me for something."

"Right, of course. Thank you for helping me carry the basket. I would have taken twice as much otherwise."

"No problem," he said, and gave her a smile to which she replied with her own.

"See you around," Gwen said as the boy walked away.

Walking back to the castle, because he felt that Gaius really might need him for any reason, Merlin noticed a group of young men training on their horses. This was a part of the town he hadn't seen, because he did not like the stables a single bit. He wasn't very fond of the smell. Still, his curiosity made him stroll to where the men trained.

It was interesting for Merlin to watch them practice jousting. He had been told all his life it was an honorable contest. Yet, he couldn't find himself being interested because, well because he deemed it pointless. Men charged at each other, trying to throw one another off form their horses. It was not as intense as if it were a real match instead of practice and most of them wore complete armory, only a few sans a helmet. He wasn't sure what to make of that fact, perhaps bravery? Or complete idiocy? Maybe cowardice? Two things happened as he considered this. First, he saw a figure with a complete armor kick his horse to make him advance faster, but instead, the horse raised his upper body in anger, throwing the armored figure off the animal's back. Second, he saw the startled horse going for a kick at the armored man's head, something at which Merlin reacted. Inconspicuously as he could, he made the earth under the horse move around, forcing him on his four legs for support, and preventing for what would have been a fatal kick.

Nobody said anything, everyone concentrated on what would have been an awful accident, and appeared grateful it hadn't turned as such.

Merlin filled with relief, was unable to contain himself and began to laugh -something that he thought would be quite quiet if he could say so himself. So of course he wondered why the reason for the people surrounding him in silence. He then realized that it would appear as if he found entertaining the fact that someone almost died.

_Oh the irony!_

The armored man, now safe and sound, approached him. Merlin felt a twinge of guilt for the wrong interpretation the man would collect. But mostly he felt and knew that it was unjust. Everyone who surrounded and watched the practice before began to either pay close attention or remove themselves -something Merlin wished he could do- before getting involved in any way. He could try and leave, but it wouldn't help to act cowardly.

"So, you believe it to be quite funny, my near death?" the man spoke with a husky and authoritarian voice.

"No," Merlin responded firmly, because in reality, he really didn't.

"Then, tell me what made you burst out laughing," the man challenged, not believing him.

He knew that he might regret it, and he couldn't tell the truth –unless he wished to die- but he _had_ saved the man's life. "Mostly the bit before, where the horse simply threw you off his back," he stated matter-of-factly.

Merlin heard a few gasps.

The man, shaken by anger and amusement, proceeded to take off his helmet, which covered his entire face, almost his eyes. Perhaps not being able to see correctly being the reason for falling off the horse.

He stared at Merlin, getting caught in his eyes momentarily, unable to word a single letter. And Merlin stared back too, the ocean colored eyes of the man penetrating his gaze. It was awkward. Neither of them was able to act upon their irritation.

"Do you have any idea of who I am?" the young man asked, his voice not as firm as he would have intended.

"No," he replied in a soft, lost tone.

Neither of them took their gazes off each other. It seemed eerie, as if a type of magnetic force kept their stares held, frozen in place.

"Well, for your information, I'm prince Arthur." The prince sounded arrogant at the revelation.

Merlin's eyes widened and dropped his stare. He didn't want to be banned from Camelot for simply laughing at the relief of saving the prince's life.

"That's what I thought," Arthur said in the same tone.

Before, and especially thankfully before Merlin could reply, two guards seized him from his arms and began to take him away.

"Stop," Arthur ordered, "I'm feeling generous, besides, the idiot didn't know who I am."

A too shocked Merlin stood, unable and unwilling to move. Had he just called him an idiot?

"You must be wary of your actions," Arthur spoke at him harshly, "especially if you have not an idea of the consequences they might bring. You are lucky I believe you didn't know who I am. Otherwise I would have thrown you in the stocks, or the dungeons."

Merlin felt his blood boiling inside of him. Even if the prince ignored that if it weren't for him he would have been surely killed, Merlin's instinct decided to take the better of him and respond, "with all your respect, sire, it wasn't I who fell off the horse." He wasn't completely sure if what he said made sense, but he hoped that reminding the prince of the embarrassing accident would insult him somewhat.

It seemed as if it had worked. The prince stood, nostrils flared and though angry, felt a little confused with the insult.

"What are you implying with that," he spat, unaware if what he said was a question or not.

The boy was really not going to let anything slip. He would try to get his way out while not retreating like a coward, though he much would've liked that possibility.

"I'm implying, sir, that if instead of trying to boast your abilities you would have paid more attention, the kick you gave your horse wouldn't have sent you to the ground." Merlin felt as if his legs would collapse underneath him. And for a reason unknown, he sensed as though every word was exactly true. Taking the presence of the prince made his character quite obvious. More importantly, he wished the prince would take his words and considered them, he truly didn't wish him any harm –and the reason not being itself because of the young man's title.

A bemused and very angry Arthur smiled in spite of himself. It wasn't a smile that showed sympathy, thought he felt for some reason it did. What the young boy had said to him was true. It somehow amazed him that the boy had stood up to him, had the guts to speak to him that way, as inappropriate as it had been.

"You are nothing but a peasant, it is unheard of that someone like you show up and give me any advice about how to ride a horse, let alone how to handle my pride." He said those words angrier than he felt, as he must show that he held the highest form of authority over everyone who was present.

Merlin felt he was finished with his part of the argument as nothing he could say anymore would be of benefit. Of course unless he apologized, but he was not about to do that, not when he felt he had done no wrong. His only mistake had been to save the man's life, and every pore in his skin wished he could simply reveal he had. Let him make what he would of that little fact.

The prince, seeing as the boy wouldn't continue with his insolent remarks, ordered the boy away.

"Take him."

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**THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU WHO READ THIS. PLEASE REVIEW :) CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS ALWAYS WELCOME, AS I ASPIRE ON BECOMING A BETTER WRITER EVERY DAY. **

**THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL FOCUS ON THE SECOND HALF OF THE EPISODE. DON'T WORRY I WON'T JUST NARRATE WHAT HAPPENS IN EACH EPISODE. **

**I HOPE YOU LIKED IT AND PLEASE REVIEW :D**


	2. Vengeance

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_Ch.2 Vengeance_

A shadow closed in. It traveled fast through the darkness, its sinister silhouette barely visible in the overcast night, the forest but a blur through the eyes of the figure. The distant chant of an owl a requiem to be remembered...

"My Lady?" A woman jumped from her chair, startled by the man who stood by the entrance of her tent.

"Yes Baron?" she sighed at the prospect of her guard, drawing her eyes to the level of his, relieved.

"Simply making sure that you are well. Good night my Lady." The guard smiled tentatively and retired.

Lady Helen glanced herself in a hand mirror the second the man walked out. It could never be, she was aware but, the hope of one day being able to love whom she desired kept her heart and vanity closely in-check. She sighed one more time, fantasizing, dreaming that perhaps just by mere luck or by the aid of God, she would be allowed to freely fall in love with the man who protected her every night's sleep. It was incongruous how "Ladies" like herself seemed to have all the opportunities, the wealth, the looks. Maybe it was true, maybe one couldn't really value what one had until it had vanished. Or was it the other way? One always wants what one can't have? Or be? How simple it was for a peasant, she believed, to marry a nice man, to be able to love, to have a voice- at least in that aspect. The Lady envied her servant for that reason. No luxuries, no elegance, she recalled the memories of her servant's wedding to be rather joyful, and she wished she could have attended -to at least experience the feeling secondhand.

And with that bitter remark, Lady Helen proceeded to ready herself for sleep. It was hopeless. The wind flustered anxiously, harshly slapping against the tent - which was inconveniently set up in the middle of the woods. The inertia becoming increasingly unstable, sending the Lady in a fret of panic. Her eyes widened at the thought of being stranded like this, but it would be very un-Lady like to give in to those terrible thoughts. After all, she was not traveling alone, and she knew Baron would never allow any harm to come her way. That consideration calmed her slightly, and contemplating the reason of her travel helped her calm yet a little more. The Lady would soon be in Camelot, where the king would surely have a suitable chamber prepared for her comfort.

But the wind continued to aggressively rummage through the tent, the earth under the poles battling against its force, unwilling to let go. Trees danced with the wind, allowing it to lead their branches one way or the other with ease, only it was too vicious, twigs broke at the tiniest show of resistance. It was really surprising the candles hadn't been turned out by the incessant airstream that at intervals filled the tent.

And then after a few more moments of unremitting wind, stillness regained.

Relief washed through Lady Helen, at last, she would be able to clock in a few hours of sleep and wouldn't have to show in a somnolent condition to the king.

But an odd episode followed.

She could tell the wind had stopped. She didn't feel the undulant form of her nightgown being moved by it. Consequently she questioned the reason of her tent being ruffled against with such force. No sound was being emitted either, the silent picture made her nervous.

The ruffling increased, and a few shadows became visible through the tent's thin barrier, the candlelight being of enough brightness to allow Lady Helen to see that the figures were wrestling with each other. The chill that went through her spine paralyzed her body where she sat. Her senses were alert, but her emotions were completely mixed. Why would anyone attack them? She merely endeavored in bringing happiness to those who would listen to her singing. Perhaps a robbery? But her guards were skilled to handle vulgar and malicious thieves. Whatever the reason, she could sense that her guards' abilities were not being of a great advantage.

"Baron," she whispered, closing her eyes and letting a single tear scorch her icy and unmovable face.

She knew that at one point the struggle between both parties would cease. This knowledge punched a hole through her stomach. The anxiety was such that it brought her to withdrawals. Lady Helen was a good at heart person, and she feared for all of the men's lives, but she would be a hypocrite if she lied and admitted that any other man's life mattered to her more than the life of Baron, even her own. She simply needed him. Already she felt the man was being separated from her, ripping her soul, shedding the core of her being, and if he were to die, she wished to live no more.

She could welcome death, smile at her even.

The fight had broken.

The dishevel her mind was could barely take in the fact.

A form began to draw near, its outline becoming smaller as it reached a side of the tent, gearing towards the entrance.

Lady Helen's vision failed her, the candles went out inadvertently (or so she thought), and she was unable to directly see the form that had entered her tent. She could feel the form approaching her. The thing's -she had no idea what it could be- breathing deep and even. Could it be a monster? But it couldn't, the outline of the form appeared to be human-like. The lines of the figure's hair were long and jumbled covering most of its face. The Lady tried squinting her eyes to take in better the figure that drew near her with every step, her sight began to adjust to the darkness and she could tell that it was perhaps a woman. The fear emitting from her almost tangible, her own breathing quickening as the terror took over her every sense. She could tell that her previous conjecture might not be too far off, and that it could be possible that this woman was a burglar. Though it was bizarre, how could a woman defeat her -she swallowed at the thought of Baron- guards singlehandedly? Could there be others?

She sat motionless, closing her eyes. The woman was within reach, and the Lady could smell death. It was true, she thought for a tenth of a second, that a person's life ran through his or her eyes before death as she began to reminisce about her childhood, her brief womanhood, and distantly she could see what would never be -and what perhaps would have never been- she standing in a crowded ballroom, the motive a special ceremony, the celebration of her marriage to the man she loved.

A sudden flash of light, and the Lady felt her being invaded, pushing the life out of her body. As a dark soul began to enter her body, her own becoming deprived of one. She lingered outside in parallel, overwhelmed, and felt her soul diminishing, becoming more and more transparent, and without notice, she disappeared in the shadows. Leaving no trace...

* * *

"But he's vicious!" Merlin complained to Gaius the night after the incident with the prince.

"Merlin, he's the prince, heir to the throne, the future king of Camelot. Does any of that tell you where you stand? It was wrong of you to laugh at the prince, why would you insult him after laughing at him for almost dying?" Gaius' tone could tell that he was in complete disbelief about the boy's behavior.

"But Gaius-"

"No Merlin, you must understand that what you did was wrong," he reprimanded him, trying to sound severe.

"Gaius-" the boy attempted again.

"And what's more, you are extremely lucky to have not been banned from Camelot. Do you realize that not a single person gets away with such insolence?"

"I saved his life!" Merlin yelled before being interrupted.

Gaius perplexed, was unable to tell whether the boy made his little confession up, or perhaps he was accustomed on lying?

"You what?" said the old man, the weight of his words requiring him an exhaustive explanation.

Merlin gushed the words a little afraid of confessing he had used magic.

"Erm, I went to see the knights practice jousting –which if you consider it, it's the worst excuse of a contest- and then the prince -one I didn't know his title yet- had a full armor on, he tried to kick his horse to go faster. Only the horse got angry with him, who wouldn't? And instead threw him off his back. But the horse wasn't near done, as it was going to kick the prince on the head, and when he was about to...I… I.. discreetly as possible, I mean I'm sure nobody even saw…well I had to.. I couldn't let the man die Gaius! I used magic" –he saw Gaius gasp in shock at hearing this- " I made the earth under the horse move, so he would need his four legs, and wouldn't kick Arthur on the head…"

"Are you sure not a single person saw you do this, Merlin?" He asked him in a severe tone, the authority in his eyes making Merlin uncomfortable where he sat.

"I'm… I'm pretty sure no one saw me." Gaius' ruthless stare became less prominent as he approached the boy.

"I'm proud of you Merlin." The man's words so sincere, that even though Merlin wanted to laugh with the incredulity he felt, he opted not to. Instead his mouth opened into a small o and his brows furrowed.

"You... you are?" Merlin asked in the same tone as the current state of his face.

"I'm not to say I am pleased with your use of magic in public, it was risky and might I add that your sense of judgment needs quite a revision. But, you did it to save the prince's life. I cannot belittle that Merlin, and since no one can ever now the heroic act, I thank you for them, for prince Arthur himself."

Merlin snorted, as if he knew that the prince could careless, he probably considered it everyone's duty to go on and about, throwing his or her selves in front of any danger he could be ever be put upon.

"So you're not mad?"

"I just want you to always consider your use of magic carefully Merlin. Don't act upon whether someone is going to be mad with you, that would not be healthy or beneficial. But since I don't trust your judgment just yet, it would be better for you to consult with me." Gaius didn't speak to him trying to make him feel like a fool, it was obvious in his eyes that he cared for the boy. He could not reprimand him for saving the prince's life, but he couldn't simply advice him to use magic at his will.

Merlin simply nodded, his deep blue eyes filled with gratitude.

"But tell me something," Gaius curiously asked, "what made you laugh, what made the prince so angry?"

"I wasn't even laughing! I was mostly smiling with relief, but he's an arrogant fool… and well you know the rest.

"He's the prince Merlin." He reminded him.

"But now I will smell like tomatoes and potatoes for days!" He pointed at his dark hair, messy and carefree, and well, smelling like rotten food.

"I can help you with that," the man grinned at him.

"Really, how?"

He reached into a small cabinet and handed him a small bottle. "Use this when you wash yourself, it's a very potent essence, without an odor to disperse, it would have you smelling like flowers, but I am sure it will simply concentrate both odors."

"Thanks" he said, smiling.

The boy stared at the bottle, concentrating, trying to decide how much he should use. Perhaps just a drop or two?

_Merlin_

"Yes?" the boy looked up.

"Yes what?" the man asked curious.

"You called my name?"

The man looked at him with worried eyes. "I'm afraid I didn't."

"Oh, maybe I just thought…" he trailed off.

They both remained silent a few moments.

"Merlin?" The man asked after few minutes.

"Hmm?" he replied, not looking up.

"What did you do, when you, when you made the earth under that horse move?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you use any incantations? Any spells?"

"I don't know any Gaius."

"Simply you perform them then, and you've never been taught or studied, true?"

"No, my mother was always too afraid of anyone finding out. Does that mean there's something wrong with me?"

"Not at all. It just means you're special, what you did was instinctive, elemental. You see Merlin, magic takes years to learn, practice, and eventually master if a person is skilled enough. There are but a few sorcerers who can perform any incantations in their mind." The old man was awestruck. There was no denying in the fact that it intrigued him much more than he let on the magic that Merlin possessed.

"What's the point if I can't use it?" He asked this more to himself than Gaius, but then a real question crossed his mind, "Did you ever study magic?"

"As you know, Uther made it his mission to destroy all magic from the kingdom, all magical elements, even the dragons." He had avoided his question, but the new revealed information intrigued him.

"He managed to kill all of them?"

"Only one remains, the king kept him as an example. The dragon is captive in a cave beneath the castle where no one can free him."

"The man Uther had killed, couldn't he just escape, like his mother?" This question had haunted Merlin, but there hadn't been an adequate time for him to ask.

"Magic is complex, it has to be performed with extreme concentration. I doubt the young man was experienced. With the ban of magic, the practice, the study, -it became rare to presence a skilled sorcerer."

Loud sounds began to emanate from outside, a celebration appeared to have begun. Both men could tell the king was speaking, but it was muffled by every other noise.

"What's happening?" Merlin asked, dubious now whether a celebration in Camelot was what he would have expected before arriving.

"Uther's ordered a celebration of his ban on magic to begin. He even requested Lady Helen for a special ceremony, she should arrive here tomorrow at noon."

Merlin wasn't surprised. He decided to ask something that did make him curious.

"Who is Lady Helen?"

"She's but one of the most talented singers from the entire kingdom, as my aide, you will have the privilege to attend the ceremony." Gaius' enthusiasm was unmasked and it was evident he would enjoy very much listening to Lady Helen.

Merlin simply nodded, unsure what to think about attending a ceremony that celebrated the death of his kind.

"But now go to rest Merlin, you will have a busy day tomorrow, I have made it my duty to have you ran as many errands as possible, anything to keep you out of trouble young man." He smiled at him, but Merlin could sense that behind his smile real worry was there.

"Good night Gaius."

_Merlin. Merlin._

The sound of his name quickly had Merlin jumping off his bed. It was odd, he thought, how it seemed to come from his mind. He needed to find the source. Something told him it wasn't simply his imagination. He strolled to the door, making sure to be extremely quiet, he didn't want to wake up Gaius and get in any trouble.

He walked out of his chamber, outside to the square and heard it again.

_Merlin_

It seemed that whenever he came close to the source, the voice inside his head became clearer, stronger.

He continued to walk around, every step charged with valor and purpose even if he was unsure of where the voice would lead him. He tried going to the outskirts of the castle, but when he reached the gates, the voice never repeated his name. Merlin walked back to the square, hesitant if after all, it _was_ his imagination, but when he was to return to his chamber, the voice was there again.

_Merlin_

He wondered if… but it couldn't be. Could it? Could magic call on other magic? He was, at least that he was aware of, one of the two magical elements within the castle. Would the dragon be calling for him?

The boy, lost in his reverie, and lost in his direction, closed his eyes, allowing the voice to guide him. He had reached the entrance of the dungeons, but guards were everywhere! He would have to resort to his abilities. With the shift of his eyes' color, he made the candelabra on the ceiling detach from its chains, knocking on the two men sitting at a table. It would appear as an accident, this part of the castle was rusty and old after all.

He was frightened, he could feel his hand shake, almost dropping the fire into the ground. The voice became clearer still, and this time he could actually hear it through his rather large ears.

The boy had never been so afraid in his entire life. How little did he know about what fate had in store for him. Merlin could feel his legs tremble as he descended the arched dungeon, leaving the courage he felt only a while ago right there where it had began to evade him. Entrance after entrance continued to appear on his path, if they weren't one way, it would have taken him hours to figure out where to go next. When he thought he had reached the last one, a rocky opening revealed a wide-open space. It was gloom and murky, the torch the only source of light, it would have been impossible for him to see the gigantic figure that came flying, with great speed, towards him.

A great yellowish dragon stood upon him. His wings open, and his eyes full of curiosity and vigor. The dragon released a short throaty laugh, but the boy could make nothing of it.

Merlin dared not to speak. He deemed it silly, but he was afraid the dragon might eat him. God knows how often they fed him.

"How small you are, for such a great destiny." The dragon spoke in a deep soothing voice.

Merlin's own curiosity about his origin, about his unexplained magic had him questioning the dragon without a thought.

"Why? What do you mean? What destiny?" he asked in a concentrated tone.

"Your gift Merlin, was given to you for a reason." The dragon responded matter-of-factly.

"So there is a reason?" Merlin pondered, intrigued.

"Arthur is the once and future king. He will unite the land of Albian, but he faces many threats from friend and foe alike."

He'd missed something. " I don't see what that has to do with me"

"Everything." The dragon responded and Merlin could almost swear that the dragon was trying to riddle him into something. "Without you Arthur will never succeed, without you there will be no Albion," the dragon continued.

"No, I think you've got the wrong person," he was about to pant, but the name of Arthur rang a bell.

"No, anyone could go ahead and kill him if they want, in fact I'll give them a hand."

The dragon laughed, "there is no right or wrong, only what is and what isn't." But Merlin could not make sense of this words, he only started at the dragon, attentive of any other clues that could make more sense to him. "None of us can choose our destiny Merlin, and none of us can escape it," he added, sending the boy into a mental maze.

"No, no, no way," he's denial making him delusional, "there must be another Arthur then, because this one's an idiot" he added acidly.

"Perhaps it is your destiny to change that." And with that single remark, the dragon began to fly upwards, the chain on his foot rattling with force as he became less visible through the rocky space.

"But wait!" Merlin tried to stop him, "I need to know more." It was in vain the dragon had gone.

_Stupid dragon, stupid Arthur. _Merlin thought, retreating for his chambers, and tried to sleep without thinking about what he had just been told.

* * *

It hadn't been an easy night. He felt heavy, his eyelids but a thin barrier that could not block away the sunlight entering from his window. Defeated, Merlin proceeded to dress himself.

"Good morning," Gaius called as the boy entered the room.

"Morning Gaius."

"There's no time for you to sit and have breakfast, I have too much work for you this morning," Gaius told him, pleased.

"I need you to take this to sir Ollwen, make sure to tell him not to drink the contents all at once. Man's blind as a bat. After that I need you to deliver this to lady Morgana, it's to help her for her nightmares. Make sure to come right back after that, you need to help me and the other servants prepare for tonight's feast." He handed the boy two different bottles, he hoped that he wouldn't mistakenly give the wrong one to their respective owners.

"Right," he simply responded, a blank expression in his face.

"Oh and here Merlin, take this with you," he handed him a slice of bread with cheese.

"Thanks," he gratefully took the bread and cheese and carried out the door, aiming towards town.

Whether it was his destiny, whether it was his fate, or simply bad luck, he could not believe that the prince lingered out and about through town, walking around with his men and taking no interest on greater matters. Didn't he have any royal obligations of his own? Or was being an ass his favorite one?

He tried to walk unnoticed, keeping his head straight forward, unwilling to look to either side when he passed him.

But of course, why would it be easy for him?

"I heard you had fun with vegetables the other day," the prince called out to him, entertained.

"Yes, it was rather pleasant," Merlin said sarcastically without turning to face him.

"Good, I hope that made you learn your lesson" he said, moving towards him.

"Of course it did, I learned that from now on a peasant must address his lord with proper words."

"Ah, I'm glad some sense has come to you," the prince informed him pleased, but he wasn't sure whether the boy was being sincere or not. Something about the young man was different, and it made him marvel a little, but of course he would never admit to that -not even to himself.

"Did you think about my advice then my lord? Will you stop boasting your abilities and stop acting like a complete brat in front of everyone, _my lord_?" The sarcastic tone in the boy's voice an octave higher.

"You cannot address me in that way!" Arthur's sympathy was gone, the anger flashing through his eyes didn't know whether to upset Merlin or satisfy him.

"Oh right, you will have daddy's guards take me away again," Merlin mocked him as the prince's companions began to approach him.

"No, isn't it obvious I can't take you myself with but a single hand?" This signaled the men to retreat, and Arthur now head to head with the skinny boy wondered where his impetuous courage came from. Compared to his muscular frame, the lanky boy stood not a chance.

"We'll see about that" Merlin smiled, sardonically, challenging the prince, whose face seemed to about explode with rage, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" the prince's face was too cynical also, it made Merlin wonder if this was part of a charade, or was the prince really this stupid all the time?

When Arthur threw Merlin a weapon to fight him, it answered Merlin's unspoken question.

The prince charged at the boy with a spiked iron ball flail. Merlin knew that he couldn't really harm the prince, but his pride was greater than any rule of etiquette, as he viewed undeserved and unmerited to respect such a vain man. So he proceeded to do what he thought best: run. He wasn't delusional either, he had no skills at fighting.

The prince charged at him once more, destroying everything that crossed his path. But the boy continued to run, without actually taking a single shot at him, he had no idea how to handle his flail, and it kept getting stuck whenever he tried to charge at the prince from a distance. When they reached the market, edibles flew everywhere. They went into a small pergola, Arthur charged at him again making the boy fall, but he couldn't advance towards him, as he tripped over a woodblock, hitting himself on the shins. Merlin was aware of this -as he was responsible for it- and tried to take advantage of the outcome. The shift in his eyes' color all but stopped when the sight of a very disappointed Gaius appeared on the corner of his eyes.

Merlin stood up, ashamed, but the prince took advantage of that. He grabbed Merlin from behind, hitting him with a sack of unknown contents.

Guards began to take the boy away, the gathered crowd too enthralled to be bothered to disperse.

"Let him go. He might be an idiot, but he's a brave idiot."

The prince walked up to Merlin, speaking into his ear, "there's something about you Merlin, I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know." He wished he had been able to say this to him more privately, as type of warning for the boy.

The prince left with that statement, gesturing the people to attend to their previous activities. Merlin and Gaius followed, and once back in their chamber, the old man was furious.

"How can you be so reckless Merlin!"

"He's arrogant and callous and an ass!

"It is not for you to judge that, Merlin. He is the prince."

"Well maybe it is." He'd said this without digesting the meaning of the phrase, he simply was mad and needed a way to discharge his rage. But what if the dragon was right? What if it was in his power to change the prince from the ass that he was into someone decent? Was that even possible? No, he thought.

"I'm not entirely sure you understand that insulting the heir to the throne will only cause you problems." The boy had not been in Camelot for even a week and he felt the trouble he had gotten himself in was enough for a lifetime -because people did not really get away with mistreating their superiors, not especially if the individual was to become king.

"I'm sorry," the sincerity in Merlin's voice was deep. He did feel sorry for worrying Gaius. Whatever his own beliefs about the prince and his destiny might be, it was not an excuse to give the old man any type of concern.

Gaius sighed. As long as he could get some sense into the boy, he was content.

"Did you deliver what I asked?"

"No, I .. well I kind of got busy there for a moment… do you want me to take them now?"

"No," Gaius responded too quickly, "I will do it myself. You go help Gwen with any preparative for the feast." Merlin nodded, he still wanted to prove himself helpful to Gaius.

"And Merlin, please try and not do anything that will sentence you to death," the man snickered this at Merlin, but the boy perceived a subtle hint of mockery from him.

"I'll do what I can," he replied, his spirits back up.

"Oh Gwen I'm so glad you're here," the man greeted the girl as she entered the room, the door, as it seemed to be customary, was open.

"Hi," she said a little altered.

"Gwen please make sure Merlin comes along with you and help you with anything you need. And please, try to keep him out of trouble." She nodded. He spoke only to Gwen, and proceeded to leave afterwards.

"I saw what happened in the market, are you alright Merlin?" Gwen was worried the boy might have some broken bones or internal damage. She couldn't really see the 'fight' clearly from her mistress' window.

"I'm perfect, it was a fair combat, I-…" but he trailed off at the dubious look on Gwen's face.

"From where I saw you, it didn't seem like it."

Merlin grimaced, but was impressed by the girl's honesty.

"Oh don't get me wrong, it was nevertheless very brave, standing up to him. He needs to be taught a lesson. He's a bully- I've seen it firsthand. I just wished you didn't resort to physical brawls to prove your point, because I honestly think Arthur has the upper hand in that area."

"Why is that?" he asked, his ego a bit hurt.

"Because Arthur's been training to fight since he was able to walk, haven't you noticed he is big and strong? And well, compared to him, you are not. Arthur's supercilious, and more than attributing this to the fact that he is the king's son, it has more to do with him being able to defeat any foe that defies him, he takes pride in being brave." Gwen's lecture on the prince made Merlin wonder if the girl had a sort of infatuation for him.

"Right, well I think I have had enough of the prince, do you mind if we talk about something else?"

Gwen was the person other than Gaius that Merlin felt comfortable speaking to. He felt he could open up to her. Not in the sense that he could reveal his secret, as he wasn't aware of her view on magic but something told him that she would be a very trustworthy friend. He felt that he needed someone of his age to relate, someone to simply converse with, laugh, and even have secrets –however petty they might be. Their conversation helped Merlin focus on inconsequential matters, and he needed that very much at the moment. He was completely tired of the prince and his attitude, and being able to simply have him off his mind was something he was thankful for.

They spent most of the afternoon talking about each other. Gwen would explain her life in Camelot, her view on the king, and sometimes Arthur would slip into conversation, making Merlin wince in disgust. Their conversation got to the point where Gwen would talk about her mother's death, making her cry a little, and Merlin consoling her. He would talk about Ealdor and his mother, and when he thought about it, he realized he missed her very much, along with his best friend, Will.

The sun had set on the horizon, Merlin was able to tell by the shift of the shadows of the unlit candles on the table. The thought of the end of another day made him nostalgic.

"Right, I'm simply grateful of being here, even if I don't know what it is I'm doing" he said to Gwen after she asked him about, well he wasn't paying attention as he was submerged in the events that had happened since he arrived to Camelot, they simply kept on mounting up. Unable to think of anything that didn't involve the words 'dragon' and 'destiny', he simply added, "shall we go help set up then?"  
She nodded, encouragingly.

They walked into the great hall where other servants were occupied with decorations and some others helped set up the banquet. Merlin and Gwen directed themselves to help with decorations, but it seemed that most everything was already finished being set up. In fact, some of the royalty began to show up early. Too early, Merlin thought, but candles were already being lit, the windows were too high up, transitioning the sun's few rays of light for the day with undistinguished fervor.

Among the arriving visitors were a few people Merlin had already seen from a distance. Both he and Gwen picked up a tray with food, waiting to be signaled to begin offering appetizers to guests. A guest in particular caught his eye. She wore a red dress that tied at the waist, allowing the rest of the fabric to fall on her slender figure, reaching her ankles. The dress had an intricate design, turning in spirals that relocated to the side of her waist. She wore a single accessory, a gold leaf headband that adorned her simplistic braid.

"Who is she?" Merlin asked Gwen, not really looking at her.

"She is my mistress, Lady Morgana, she is the king's warden " She eyed him suspiciously, "She doesn't really want to be present in the feast, but Uther obligated her to attend. She debated whether to attend or not, I dressed her hours ago, in case she changed her mind."

"Why did she not want to be here?"

"Lady Morgana is against Uther making a celebration out of the death of people he himself ordered to be killed. She believes that because they might had magic, it doesn't mean they were really evil or had any malevolence." Gwen's depiction of Lady Morgana's view had no inclination whatsoever, it left Merlin wondering her own views for a brief moment, but he was much too intrigued with the Lady.

_That makes two of us _he thought, "I agree, celebrating the murder of innocent people is certainly not a motive for celebration."

"But, they were _not_ innocent."

"Why are you so sure?"

The question made her doubt her sure answer. "I.. I'm not, but if magic isn't evil, why does the king despise it so much?"

This was the kind of rhetoric that Merlin thought would face the most. Simply, why did the king had to be correct about every single view he had? Why did his erroneous predication had to weigh more than the truth?

"Indeed, that is something to ponder." The sarcastic tone in Merlin cleverly masked in real wonder. He felt the impossible need to introduce himself to Lady Morgana who had began to greet guests from neighboring lands. Unfortunately his need was completely washed with repugnance at the sight of a brawny man approaching her.

Arthur greeted the Lady with a playful kiss on the side of her face. The picture maddened Merlin. Clearly it was unjustified, and to be honest, he couldn't explain to himself a reasonable excuse as to why he felt that way. He assumed the pure sight of Arthur put him in a bad mood.

The all but forgotten Gwen observed Merlin, unsure whether to ask or let him shred the prince with his glare. If only she knew how much his _glare_ could do.

After another few seconds, she decided to intervene, "you might as well throw your tray at him," she commented, trying to sound indifferent.

"Sorry," he mumbled, a little ashamed of being so obvious, "it just amazes me what a title can do for one's self."

"Merlin, title or not, Arthur has worked all his life to be deserving of it."

"I thought you hated him?" the confusion in his tone had him ramble through his question.

"I don't hate him Merlin! He's the prince of Camelot, I only said he was a bully and that he needs to be taught a lesson. But, in reality, he is kinder than he lets on." A blush was coloring her ebony skin, it was endearing.

"I see. I guess that you liking him blinds you into seeing that he is a complete idiot." Merlin was only half playing with his comment, but he could tell that it didn't amuse Gwen the slightest.

"I don't like the prince, I like more ordinary men, like... like yourself for example." Her tone even, blatant almost.

"Oh, but I'm not ordinary," he teasingly replied.

"I didn't mean you! I meant like you, not _you_.

"Alright then - oh is that for us?" he pointed to a man signaling them to begin.

"Yes.. um you go in that direction" -she pointed to their right, the furthest away from the prince-"and I'll go this way."

"Of course," he said smiling at her.

They began their round along with the other servants. The boy had not an idea of what to do and he hadn't been given any instructions. He simply mirrored the other servants and approached the guests, offering them food from his tray.

When his tray was empty, he supposed he had to get another one. The boy walked to the table again, meeting Gwen who indicated him to bow at the sight of the king, who entered accompanied with a beautiful woman.

"That's Lady Helen," Gwen informed Merlin, answering his unspoken question.

"Is she going to sing now?"

"I think so, we better go to our positions."

"And where is that?" he asked confused.

"See that table over there?" She pointed to a table across the room. Three grand chairs placed in the middle of it.

He simply nodded.

"We must stand next to where the entrance is, the prince will sit to the king's right, and Lady Morgana to his left."

Unfortunately, the entrance was to the right, already the prince and the king's warden had taken their place, and following them the servants and Gaius, who appeared without being noticed by Merlin.

Gaius stared at the boy, signaling to come stand next to him, but the man was closest to the king, closest to the prince. Merlin just sighed and walked over to Gaius and stood to his left.

"Thank you all for being present tonight. As you know, we are celebrating twenty years of liberation. We deserve it. With the ban of magic, the kingdom has been prosperous, fruitful, and most importantly, we can declare that alliances between our lands have never been stronger." The king spoke with such fervor, that Merlin questioned the reasoning behind the king's hatred of magic. Surely it couldn't be simply for the sake of the kingdom's well being. After all, rules are rules and regulations, when enforced, prevented what he dared.

"And for that reason," the king continued, "I am honored to have an addition to our celebration, the very talented and charming Lady Helen, who will perform for us tonight."

Lady Helen, who now stood across the king's table, on a semi-raised platform, smiled at the king.

"Please my Lady, if you will," the king commanded persuasively.

And so she began.

The voice of the Lady was most beautiful. Her chant echoed through the room, a sea of emotions crossed through her face, heightening the power of her recital.

The awed expressions from the attendees were something to look at, even Merlin, despite his feelings about the celebration, couldn't deny that the woman's singing brought to him peace.

Too much peace. But it soothed him and couldn't complain, his being felt loose, relaxed.

And then, Lady Helen's song became an anthem, the unknown lyrics repeating every other verse, reverberating in Merlin's brain, carving into his mind, the never-ending serenity that her voice induced making him feel sluggish and tired.

The appeasing began to invade the attendees as well. Some began to blink tiredly, and others simply shut their eyes contentedly. The servants that stood next to Merlin dropped to the ground, resting on each other's backs. The king himself had fallen into a solemn slumber, along with his royal family.

All the while, the Lady continued through her now somber requiem, barely audible now through Merlin's ears, exhaustion taking the best of him.

But he forced himself alert as she began to stroll to through the room, poised in the king's direction, her voice stronger, angrier. When she began to cross through the room, Lady Helen produced a large knife, but Merlin wasn't exactly sure where it had come from . Perhaps it simply appeared in her hand?

It _was_ possible. And that realization widened his senses, making the oxygen in his lungs bother him, exhaling faster than he could inhale. The woman strolled faster, leaving but not time for him to act. He looked around desperately, dreading the aftermath of what her purpose could cause. There was absolutely not a thing for him to work with!

And then, like a miracle, he spotted the large candelabra. It was possibly three times the size of the one he used to incapacitate the guards in the dungeons. He looked at it ferociously, making the candelabra drop onto Lady Helen, hurling her violently on the ground.

Her voice stopped abruptly.

The second her voice was stopped, all the attendees began to wake.

"What-" the king rambled, but there was no chance for him to try and make sense, the woman's body began to convulse aggressively, a shriek emanating from her lungs, and she spoke with a detached voice.

"Eye for an eye Uther," she spat with her final breath, it was the same voice of the old hag from the square. Without notice, she threw the knife into his direction, but it wasn't really the king she aimed for.

She aimed towards Arthur, of course.

An urge that instigated in the pit of Merlin's stomach had him yearning for the prince's protection. The same desperation as before, only intensified at the possibility of the young man's death. Whatever he might think of him, whatever the fable the dragon might have told him, he couldn't let him die.

He ran towards him. _Only a few paces away_, he thought.

Merlin grabbed him by the arm, pulling the prince into him, and making them both fall. The prince fell on top of him, the weight of him not as much as Merlin would've imagined. A lock of his blonde hair intertwined with the boy's black hair.

Arthur was startled, he had seen the knife charged at him with incredible speed, his train of thought frozen, slowed, unaware that he was now laying on top of the young boy. He simply stared into the depth of the boy's bluest eyes, getting lost in them -only momentarily. The young man shook his head, quickly removing his weight from the boy, and helped him get up.

"You saved my boy's life," the king exclaimed with gratitude, "for that you shall be rewarded."

"Thanks your Highness, that's not necessary," Merlin responded humbly.

"Don't be modest, what you did was remarkable," the king insisted.

Merlin inclined and shook his head timidly.

"Nonsense, you will be granted the honor of becoming Arthur's manservant."

"But father-" Arthur began to protest.

"My word is final," and with that remark, the king left the room.

Merlin outraged by his reward followed soon after, retiring to his chamber, not glancing a single look towards the prince or Gwen or Gaius.

He reached his chamber, directing himself to his room, but he knew Gaius was following him and a lecture with him.

"I know what you did there," he said, not in a reprimanding tone as Merlin expected.

"Yeah?"

"It seems that perhaps you have found a use for your abilities," the man pondered wisely.

"You mean, I have to use magic to save Arthur every time his father deserves punishment?" He pondered for a minute but then added, "no, I don't mean that of course, it's not his son's fault."

"That's right, and maybe it is your destiny to change and shape Arthur into someone more... accepting."

"You think I can change that spoiled brat that is to become king?" He couldn't believe that Gaius believed that he could.

"Well, it doesn't matter what I think, but for what I can observe, this is the second time you have saved the prince's life. That fact must mean something."

He knew that of course, but how could that be possible? He couldn't stand him for crying out loud! Why would it be his destiny, or rather _burden_ ,to go around saving someone who took every aspect of himself for granted?

A knock on the door brought him back from his trance. A man stood at the entrance, and requested for Merlin.

"The prince requires your presence immediately in his chambers," the man informed and left.

Merlin sighed heavily, too dramatically, "I guess I should attend to his little Highness."

Gaius threw him an reprimanding scowl, but didn't say a word.

He left the room, in the direction of his... destiny?


	3. Arthur's Faux Pas

**I have decided to take a different direction with the story. Hopefully it will turn out for the best.**

**This is where I begin to finally develop the story further, delving away from the series, but not entirely, as it is important for me to follow it.**

**I hope you like this chapter, it is all about Arthur! **

* * *

_Ch.3 Arthur's Faux Pas _

"Lock it like this, but you have to make sure it is actually locked." The prince explained to Merlin one afternoon.

The boy had been serving as Arthur's servant for almost three weeks now. The prince was currently attempting the impossible task of teaching the boy the simple process of dressing him with his armor. It was unbelievable the amount of time being wasted by this effortless yet important task. But Merlin on the other hand, found entertainment when he asked the young man numerous times to explain him how it was properly done, because Arthur, he continued to discover, was easily irritated.

The third time around, Arthur decided to help Merlin by putting the armor on him. That way, he thought, the dim-witted servant might get a better idea.

"I'm not showing you again, Merlin, you better be paying attention." The threat in his voice harsher than it should, but his quota patience was beginning to extinguish. It didn't help that his idea had not turned out well, the armor was too big on Merlin, and the boy had trouble maintaining balance.

"Why do you have to be so skinny Merlin? Two of you would easily accommodate inside of this."

Merlin rolled his eyes, the prince behind him, unable to witness. "Not all of us are as big, sire."

"Well, my knights are. These armors aren't custom made you know."

"Perhaps, but _you_ are bigger and taller than me."

"I'm only taller by a few centimeters," he noted, goaded by the remark of such trivial fact.

But that fact was particularly odd. Merlin and Arthur were about the same height, Arthur being slightly taller than Merlin. The great difference rested on Arthur's muscular built, the contrast between Merlin's gangly figure and the prince's build was too vast. Arthur briefly wondered if the boy fed himself at all. He didn't care of course, his concern simply based on the efficiency from the servant. It wouldn't help the clumsiness of the boy as it was.

"The helmet," he continued to explain the importance of the armor after being interrupted by Merlin's constant questioning," is one of the most important parts. You see, it protects my face and head. You have to be absolutely certain it has no damage, no cracks. Otherwise I will be down at the first blow."

Merlin chuckled.

That action didn't really appease the prince a single bit. "Why Merlin, do you find such entertainment at the possibility of my harm?" He wasn't really asking for an answer, because why should he care either way? But he couldn't find it in him to stop Merlin when he attempted one.

"I don't," he began, sheepishly. "It's just..." he struggled, trying to find the words that would explain himself without sounding like the idiot the prince thought he was, "I can't really imagine you fighting, I see you and you're dangerous, but the thought of actually seeing you get hurt, I can't imagine."

"Why is that?" Arthur asked, ignoring the open opportunity to scold Merlin's failed expertise on the matter.

Merlin chuckled again, his playful blue eyes dancing back and forth between the prince at his side and the empty space in front. "Because you're a royal pain, and everything that implies with that," he said outright, fearless of the outcome his insolence might bring.

The prince laughed without humor, arching an eyebrow. Something about Merlin bothered him with such influence that sometimes it blinded him. Arthur was not entirely sure why, but even though he thought Merlin was a complete hypocrite, he was beginning to understand that he could not find it in himself to stay or be angry at him for long periods of times. Not even when he publicly defied him those two times. Arthur of course didn't understand _why_, he just understood he was unable. He was far from acknowledging this to himself, far from deciphering any ramifications, his current elaborations simply coming and going, like the nippy wind that filled his chambers that morning. He remembered an unconscious yearning, a yearning he was unaware of what it could perhaps be.

The tone in his chambers had come down, the light teasing gone. Arthur now quiet, worked with purpose, trying to show Merlin the process of dressing him again. This time, the armor on Arthur, as it was evidently a failed idea putting it on Merlin. Frustration was beginning to overwhelm him, but his face maintained motionless, here and there his eyes shifted in position. Sometimes he would simply stare into space, not really paying attention to anything, and when Merlin was about to make a mistake, he would penetrate his gaze onto him, intimidating the boy. This pleased him.

The prince had far more important thoughts to attend to, but with Merlin being there, it was easy to focus on him momentarily. With all honesty, he was quite oblivious to what it was that bothered him. Why he felt disconcerted at the prospect of the manservant, who was beginning to deem himself useless. Something nagged in his head, throbbed questions that couldn't allow himself to voice freely, simply because he was not sure what and how to ask. He tried voicing them in his head, while Merlin worked, for once, diligently and without asking ten questions at a time.

_First things first_, he thought, attempting to organize his muddled thoughts. He began with what appeared the easiest topic, but contradictory to what he believed, it was one of the most important. Why did Merlin save his life? He meant of course, _why_ would he? Hadn't the boy laughed at the idea of seeing him die that day at practice? Did the fact that he was the prince have any inclination or intent? _But of course it does!_ He thought, _he saved the prince of Camelot, not just another peasant. _

He sighed heavily, infuriated by the thought -Merlin too concentrated with his own work to notice the minuscule change.

"Merlin?" He asked, making himself serene.

"Yes, sire?"

"Why did you..." but he couldn't, asking him would only give the boy the advantage to elaborate a well crafted story, "come to Camelot?" he finished with that question instead, appearing blasé.

"Oh um, I came here to aide Gaius, make things easier for him." The question surprised him, because the short pause indicated to him the prince wanted to ask something else.

"Poor man," he said.

"Yes," Merlin agreed.

"I mean to be stuck with you as an aide, I must say I pity him." The burlesque implication didn't amuse him a single bit, but he needed to deviate the topic from what he intended to really ask.

"I believe your opinion differs with his, sire." Even when Merlin wished he could say what his mind screamed to the prince, it was for Gaius that he kept his mouth shut and elaborated a more respectful alternative instead.

"I find that rather difficult to believe, Merlin," the prince continued to tease, a little more interested now that Merlin seemed to be upset by his insinuations.

Merlin tried with all his might to stop himself from telling the prince to mind his own business. He might also add and tell him that why should he care about the opinion of such an arrogant ass.

He would have, but right about the time when he was to pronounce the first syllable of his piece-of-mind monologue, a light tap at the door stopped him short.

"Who is it?," Arthur asked.

The sound was somewhat muffled by the thick barrier the doors formed. "I was simply sent to inform you the king awaits for you, sire." The unknown voice of a man informed him.

"Thank you," he replied -to Merlin's surprise- and dismissed the man.

"Merlin I have to go meet my father. Make sure you have my armor clean and shinny by the time I come back, I might need it in the morning."

Merlin smiled mischievously. "Sure, but would you mind if I do it in my chambers? I wouldn't want to ruin your floors."

Arthur stared, dumbfounded. "Sure...I.. Yes that's where you will clean my belongings from now on, unless I am to supervise your work." This was the first sign of competence from the boy, but he didn't want to acknowledge such. Arthur didn't want to allow the boy to harbor any hope that this was outstanding thinking on his part, because that _was_ Merlin's responsibility.

"Who will supervise you?" the boy mumbled unintelligible.

"What's that?" Arthur asked.

"I said I'll be in my chambers if you need anything sire."

"Right, go on then. Spotless, Merlin, I expect to see my reflection when you bring the armor back."

"Yes sire." And with that, a struggling Merlin carried the prince's armor into his chamber. Arthur felt the strange urge to help the boy carry the heavy armor, but decided against it. Since when did he help servants do their work? Where were the servants when he needed a helping hand with more important tasks?

Arthur left his chambers, Merlin now but forgotten in his mind, though he did keep him in check, trying to think of new jobs for him, of ways for him to be more efficient, more reliable, if he could somehow manage to trust him.

Inside the throne room, his father waited silently, his lips curved upwardly in a smile.

"Son," he greeted Arthur.

"You asked to see me father?"

"Yes, we need to discuss the coming sword tournament. I assume you will want to participate?" He was unable to conceal the pride he felt at the thought of his son becoming victorious, finally of legal age to officially enter the tournament.

"It would be an honor, sire." His own pride was almost tangible, confidence clouding around him like a morning fog.

The king signaled his son to take a sit on his side.

"Very well then. You will need to practice diligently; the tournament begins in a fortnight. Knights from around and afar will begin to arrive Camelot soon, and it would be best if all your trainings were done periodically, not allowing them to see you. It would be an unjust advantage if it happened. When the tournament begins, it will be not as easily to tell who will stand, therefore that does not concern me. Make sure your armor is properly kept, I don't want you harmed by a simple mistake. Have that boy, what's his name?"-

It was unimportant for the king to know the servant's name, and was about to continue with his very important lecture to Arthur when he answered his question instinctively, "Merlin."

"Merlin," the king repeated, "have him clean and polish your armor after every combat, inspect it yourself and make sure to teach him. You can't expect him to know if you don't teach the boy." This last implication was meant as a slight reprimand on the prince's temper. It didn't help that Arthur was beginning to acknowledge the fact.

"Yes father, I will look up on that matter. Anything else you wish to tell me?"

"We will have a council meeting in a few days where we will discuss this further. As for know, why don't you join me for an early supper?"

"I rather go practice a few hours with my knights, if that is alright with you. I can have my dinner in my chambers later today."

"That is fine by me," the king said, praising the initiative and dedication of his son.

" Very well then. Sir," he bowed to the king and retired from the room.

But Arthur didn't have his head set on training, which was unusual as the prince always enjoyed the hours of exercise.

He decided to horse ride for those hours instead. Alone. Clear his mind off the sudden uncertainty he felt.

At the stables, one of the knights had a horse prepared for him.

"Sire, are you sure you want to go by yourself? It's dangerous for you to take such risks."

"Don't worry about me Leon, I will not be far. I should stay but a couple of hours out, if for some reason I am not back by such time, come and search for me."

It was the insignificant actions and words from those who surrounded him that made the prince wonder. He wondered to what extent it was that the people took for granted his position, going as far as to give up their lives for his own, and to what extent it was something else. Arthur couldn't put past him that there was people, maybe even in the castle, with the malevolence to take advantage and mask said servitude for greater intentions.

Arthur began by ascending the fields on the northern plain of the kingdom. It was difficult for him to believe that just a couple of weeks ago the scorching sun burned him, the armor leaving marks where it touched his unprotected skin. Vegetation this time of year had become scarce and it was conveniently rare the times he found a farmer lingering around the dead crops. And even though it was evident the fields were barren, he knew the kingdom would be fine in the coming winter. The year round work of the farmers had given fruitful results, more than enough to have a prosperous season. He unconsciously checked in his mind to remind his father that perhaps they would be able to aid the nearby towns, whose harvests had not been as healthy.

Despite the slight distraction, he was still unable to clear his mind, as it was the point of his sudden trip. It was always in times that he felt like this that he rode alone, often without direction, without reason. The worst was that he couldn't identify what feeling like _this_ could possibly represent because he felt well, as far as he could physically denote. Worst yet, was knowing he felt _something_, and the confusion simply wrapped his mind in intricate twists and turns, a time warp leaving him exactly where he had begun. It was always the same, always predictable. The nostalgia of the repetitiveness made him sigh, almost contentedly, because as sick as it could be, this was the only aspect of himself he did not take for granted. Every other aspect and behavior was mastered, he needed to live up to the persona his father, knights, Morgana, the people had come to build for himself.

_Great expectations,_ he thought.

It was in times like this that he longed for _someone, _but it was unclear to him in what terms did he longed for that someone. It was in times like this that the alienation he felt was such that he could abandon everything, leave behind everyone and start anew. To simply continue going, far where no one knew he was the prince of Camelot, the future king. But responsibility would guilt him back into the path he knew too well.

Arthur hadn't felt the need to run away recently, besides this was more out of impulse than from repressed depression. It was all the more maddening. Changes recently had not been of importance or relevance. There were the petty and the unimportant however, but he could not dream to attribute his emotional state to any of that. It was most absurd.

The air began to feel colder as he forced his horse to gallop faster, the wind rasping at his cheeks, reddening them. The prince hadn't noticed he was way further than he intended to go but the sky was clear and the sun had not set. It probably would by the time he got to Camelot, already the knights in search for him.

_How exasperating_, he thought about their responsibility, their sole purpose at the moment to take care of him, make sure nothing would happen. Even if he appreciated them, he could not fathom being in any of their shoes, not even Leon, the closest he was to any of his knights, the closest he had ever dared to call anyone a friend. Yet, he could not recall any important details about the man other than he was a loyal man, one of his best knights, and his interest for a particular Lady he had not wished to reveal her name. He knew more about the poor excuse of a manservant he had just met than the man he was set to fight battles with.

Disgust began to invade him. The same disgust he felt back in his chambers. A sense of hatred rummaged inside of him, desperately wanting to have a way out, making him shake with the anger. Arthur got off his horse abruptly, punching the air instinctively as the anger intensified. He walked in circles, fists shut tight hitting at his sides, trying to discharge the immeasurable amount of energy emanating from their concealment.

Suddenly he wished he had opted to stay and train instead. Although the anomaly in his anger disturbed him because as much as he wished he could hit anything, it would not relieve him from what he felt. And as he realized this, the air began to suffocate him, lungs began to fail him, the rhythm of his palpitations increased by more than he could sustain. The welled up, the surge of confusion and anxiety was too deep in him to allow understanding.

He could not explain any of it and it terrified him.

And it was enough for the time being. The more he allowed these sentiments to fill him, the more unanswered questions that arose.

He decided heading back now, without relief, not a single of his preoccupations explained.

The ride back was not as long as he had thought. The sun was beginning to set when the plains began to appear in sight view. The sky formed the most beautiful shades of red and pink, the gathered clouds shadowing around the sky, prominently announcing a storm for the coming days. He could see that some of the knights were already in search for him, that he had anticipated. He only let knights of his own trust to know about his mystery trips however, no need to worry his father -and he was never in the mood for any of his lectures about what risking his life meant, thank you very much.

It might be ungratefulness on his part, but he decided that perhaps it was not in anyone's hands to save him. Whatever would happen, well, it simply would. Hadn't numerous men died while having the protection of others? Hadn't the king's own father been murdered while being protected by the strongest of guards? Of course his father would counteract by declaring that it didn't help his cause if he wondered around unprotected. But he was confident that when his time would come, he would be prepared and for some odd reason, he could sense that it would not be as soon as others might anticipate or wish.

"My Lord," Leon greeted him as he approached.

"Leon," he acknowledged, " I am sorry for taking longer than I had said."

"We had barely started, you're only a few minutes delayed."

"Very well then. Has my father asked for me?"

"No sire, he is quite busy with the arrangements for the council meeting. I suspect if he decides to see you later today at all, it would be right before he retires to his chambers." The way in which he phrased the sentence was peculiar, it sounded off the usual tone of the man.

"Why is that?" Arthur was not nearly concerned, simply curious.

"Because... I. I'm sorry I wasn't eavesdropping I swear," his gaze dropped to the ground in shame.

"Never mind that, continue," the prince encouraged.

"I heard that he would inform you about the visit of Lady Sophia and her father to witness the tournament. They will arrive in a few days."

"There's more," Arthur pronounced accusingly, because why would this information be the cause of shame on his part? Probably even the servants already knew this.

"Yes," Leon agreed guiltily, "I heard the council... advice your father that it was perhaps time you began to court some of the Ladies from the neighboring kingdoms. That it would be very beneficial if you and the Lady Sophia in particular could develop a friendship, and perhaps turn it into something more -meaningful in the near future."

"What did my father had to say about this?" The prince asked, his tone undecipherable.

"Your majesty agreed that if it could be Lady Sophia you could," he struggled for the right word, "become close with, that it would mean the beginning of Camelot and Garlot to form a more reaffirming alliance." The shame in Leon was making him perspire. This kind of stress was very different than what a knight of Camelot was accustomed to. To think he had lowered himself into gossiping what was clearly none of his business.

Arthur stared into space, unable to find words that would dismiss the uncomfortable man.

"Thank you," he finally said after a few moments, "I am grateful for your loyalty. You did good to inform me, I wouldn't know what to say to my father after such revelation. I still don't know, but I will not be taken aback when he tells me later tonight, if that's what he decides."

"Sire," he bowed, requesting to be allowed to retire.

Arthur nodded, conceding his request.

* * *

Back in his chambers, the prince walked around aimlessly, the stress within compressed into small and separated quantities, like the contents of the same substance in different vials he might find in Gaius' chambers.

_And now Merlin's too_, his mind corrected him.

It had been hours since the last time he heard from his manservant. He appreciated the alone time and being free of his unusually high spirited and inconsequential banter, but he did have matters that needed to be taken care of. Like his dinner for example, surely someone must have informed him that he had not eaten since morning. What about his armor? Didn't the boy believe to have to check in with him to be told if it was acceptable?

Right then, the door opened abruptly, sending the prince into a jolt.

"Don't you know how to knock, Merlin?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but you see, my hands are busy with your dinner, _sire_," he said, outraged by the lack of the prince's understanding. How could he be so intolerable?

Arthur's mood shifted at the sight of his dinner. Eating was an enjoyable part of his day. He almost always excused himself to do so in private as his father's proper talk usually made him lose his appetite.

"Let's see, what do we have here?" He asked intrigued.

"Chicken, beans, and vegetables and they also sent a bottle of this." He pointed at a green bottle without markings, but the prince seemed to know what it could possibly contain, as his lips twitched into a smile at the sight of it.

"Ipocrase," he said appreciatively, oblivious to the boy's lack of interest and knowledge.

"Right, would you like me to serve you?" He asked.

"Yes, please," Arthur took a sit at the head of the small rectangular table a few meters away from his bed.

Merlin placed the tray with food in front of him -surprised by the prince's politeness-, taking the individual plates and placing them accordingly, and proceeding to pour some of the liquor into a small goblet on the table.

Arthur concentrated on his food, surprisingly still hot, unlike most nights Merlin served him in his chambers, where he took so long that by the time he arrived with dinner it was already less the warm. This time he ate without thinking about anything, solely paying attention to the texture and taste of his food. He would often take long sips from his goblet, asking Merlin to pour some more when he felt it was too empty. When he was finally finished, he relaxed in his chair, slumping into it, a feeling of satisfaction overcoming him.

"That was delicious," he let out with a heavy exhale, but he knew that it had more to do with the fact that he was too hungry. It wasn't an exotic or a more praise-deserving plate. Still, he was grateful for it.

"Glad you enjoyed it," Merlin commented.

"I did indeed, thank you."

"Sir," Merlin cautiously began, genuinely concerned, "do you, do you feel alright?"

"I do, why do you ask?" With his good mood, it was unnoticeable the curiosity he felt at asking him.

"Well, it's just that since the few weeks I've been working for you, I've hardly ever seen you in the mood you are right now." Merlin didn't feel like he was being nosy or intrusive, after all, wasn't it a part of a servant's job to notice their master's behavior?

Arthur was not expecting this. All of the sudden his servant was perceptive? He was still a little unsure about the question, so he asked him instead, "What do you mean?"

The boy hesitated, but began, "Sometimes you wonder, not paying attention, it makes me think that perhaps there might be plenty on your mind, but mostly you seem mad and irritated which makes me think that you're, well that you're just a bitter man" he eyed Arthur's reaction, but he could sense he was not mad by his comment, "but tonight you seem to be in a very good mood. I'm not saying that is a bad thing of course..." he trailed off.

Arthur's eyes narrowed at the boy's comment, he simply thought Merlin was trying to ask why he was in a better mood than most days. The prince would have never dreamed that Merlin was able to tell all that about him. Especially not after barely knowing him for such a short period of time.

The prince himself struggled for words, "I am simply content and grateful for the dinner, Merlin. I'm not sure what you are talking about." Arthur could have told the boy he had no right to be questioning him about his mood, but decided against it. He did not want to ignite any fictitious suspicions in the servant.

The silence in his chambers lasted only a few minutes afterwards, after Arthur remembered other matter that needed attention, it was broken.

"Merlin," he asked in the same polite tone as before, "where's my armor?"

"It's in the antechamber sire, I put it there hours ago."

"You finished?"

"Yes, do you want to see it?" He asked, hope reverberating in his tone, his blue eyes filled with the anticipation and there was also a hint of something Arthur couldn't quite interpret.

Merlin's expression softened the prince, he simply wanted to know that the boy was finished. He wondered the reason he said, "yes, bring it here," when what he really wished to do was to prepare for bed.

The boy carried the armor with great difficulty, carefully trying not to drop a single piece on the floor. When success was rewarded, he proceeded to lay the pieces into Arthur's bed.

Arthur couldn't stop the smile that formed in his lips, his face had a mixture of gratitude, happiness, but mostly he was astonished. "It looks," - it looked great, to say the least, but he wondered to what degree should he word his surprise, as he didn't want to overly praise Merlin -"well done, Merlin."

It seemed to be enough for Merlin as his own smile told that he _knew_ the prince was grateful. "Thank you, sir," he exclaimed.

"It _is_ your job, Merlin, don't forget that," he reminded the boy.

"You have low standards then, I assume, because whoever was doing this before, well it seemed not to matter much to you." He referred to the worn state and though not essentially dirty, inaptly kept armor before.

Arthur grinned in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief. How could this simple peasant be so observant? But he was not about to give in, that was out of the question.

"That is only because I've only trained for the fact of training in the past. This year is different. I will be competing in the sword tournament and I will need my armor to be kept properly." He had only thought about his reasoning after what the boy had said, it was not essentially a lie, but he knew that this is what he would have asked of Merlin regardless. Something to quench Arthur's annoyance.

"Are you telling me that any battles you've fought had been using _that_?" Merlin countered in feigned mock.

"There haven't been many," Arthur admitted. He hadn't been allowed to go into the battlefield until recently, and with the king's constant peace treaties, there hadn't been any new occurrences. There were thieves and burglars, but not always was he sent to take care of them personally.

"In any way," the prince continued, "I should remind you that a very important sword tournament is coming up in a few weeks. I have but the right time allotted for practice, I want you to keep this"-he pointed to his armor- "in perfect condition."

"Yes sire," Merlin replied.

Arthur wondered briefly what other assignments would he be able to accomplish with such fervor, but assumed that he would only find out until the boy, who now stood with a blank expression and his black hair pointed in every direction, actually accomplished them. He wanted to ask what he was thinking, but was interrupted before he could even word a letter by a tap at his door.

"Come in," Arthur said, raising his voice a little louder than he thought was necessary, but it took a moment before the door actually opened, and he thought that maybe the doors were way too thick for any real beneficial purpose.

"Arthur," the king greeted his son, unemotionally.

"Father?" Arthur asked, and he could see from his peripheral vision that Merlin was able to notice that his tone of voice, his question was a little off.

But his father didn't seem to notice, and thankfully he was the one who mattered.

"I wanted to personally tell you that we will be hosting very special guests in a few days," the king said, his own voice raising and lowering at just the appropriate syllables, just too appropriate for Arthur's like.

"Who are they?" Arthur asked in the same composed tone, and he didn't like a single bit the way he could sense Merlin's gaze in his head, questioning his own feigned astonishment. And he couldn't send him away either, that might, just might appear suspicious.

Not that any of it made any sense, not really. It was perhaps all in Arthur's head, and it was utterly annoying. He had always been extra careful whenever his father would try and impose anyone new to him, and well, mentally overreacting had turn into an embellishment, an ornament that only heightened his nervousness, and even though it was supposed to deviate attention from what he really felt, he could somehow sense it did the contrary.

When his father didn't respond, he thought it was because Uther had been able to perceive some of his hesitation, but he was not standing where he had a minute ago. He had gone to stand a few centimeters away from the bed, towering over something there. Arthur was too engulfed in his own thoughts to remember what could possibly be laying there of importance.

He then remembered something... He could feel heat being released from his gut, distributing uncomfortable amounts all over his body. A single drop of perspiration began to roll down his forehead.

Merlin eyed him, a worried look crossing his features but mostly he seemed confused.

"Arthur," the king called.

He hesitated, "Ye..yes?"

"Who did this?" and Arthur couldn't detect any anger, any disappointment. He could blame Merlin, but that would be an act of cowardice, and he wouldn't lower himself to that. Not even if it was a simple peasant the one who could spare him the consequences.

"I did it." Response firm, but inside his stomach twisted with an unknown type of fear: embarrassment.

"Didn't you think it would be a good idea to have the boy help you?" He didn't offer any glances towards Merlin, calling him a 'boy' simply for the lack of recalling what his name could be. He didn't care either way.

"What?" He asked, unable to mask his confusion, and wondering why Merlin stood agape, his blue eyes hinting just subtly that he was disappointed for some reason.

"It is the same, is it not?"

He walked to his father, who contemplated the shinny armor that rested all over his neatly kept bed. Arthur had completely forgotten about it, had been too enthralled in what other findings could the king encounter.

Just then did he realize the meaning of Merlin's constant switch of emotions. Had it been a different situation, he would have laughed at him.

"Yes, it's the same one. I-" he quickly elaborated a believable story, with this type of inconsequential matters, it was easy to deceive his father, "Gaius gave me a new polishing mixture that has just a small amount of butter."

"Interesting," the king replied.

"Indeed," the young prince said, looking even younger now as he tried hiding the whitest of truths from his father.

"I hope you are able to teach him," the king said, putting an end to that conversation, somewhat bothered by the fact that it was dragged more than it needed to be, as he simply wished to make a small comment about the object's appearance.

"Yeah, me too," Arthur regretted the words as soon as they were out, and he did not dare to glance over Merlin's direction. He wasn't afraid of course. He just considered that his action had not been of honor.

Uther decided to press on more important matters. He walked towards his son before speaking, allowing enough distance between them, but positioned himself so that he could speak face to face with him. "In a few days," he reminded him, " Garlot's king, my dear friend Aulfric and his delightful daughter Lady Sophia will join us for the upcoming tournament." He stopped speaking, allowing this to register in Arthur's head, and assessing his reaction.

"Wonderful, I look forward to seeing them again. It's been a long time since we have been granted their presence." His expression didn't give anything away. The mask was on again, carefully reacting and speaking at appropriate levels.

"Very true, they tell me that Lady Sophia is now a very beautiful young woman. I remember the last time we saw her she was a little girl still. You two got along quite well back then." The king's reminiscing an innocent memory at recalling Arthur's childhood friend.

Arthur's eyes narrowed infinitesimally before speaking. In his peripheral vision he could see that somehow Merlin had sense his slight falter, but he couldn't be bothered with him at the moment.

Instead, he smiled a wide smile, remembering of the pleasant days he and the Lady Sophia, along with Morgana, would play hide and seek inside the castle, constantly getting yelled at by their respective nurses. "And I'm sure we will get along now," he said, more to himself than Uther.

The king smiled at his comment. "I am hoping you do son, it would be a great honor for her father if you dedicate your victory to his daughter. Out of courtesy, of course."

"Of course," the prince repeated gently, but he did not like the turn of the conversation. "That is _if_ I win," and suddenly the hidden part of him, that part that he only allowed out when he was alone, wished that he would not.

"Nonsense, I am sure you will do me proud." Only his statement sounded more like an order than hope or faith in his son.

"I will do my best," the prince said in return, making no promises.

"Arthur, tomorrow I will have a council meeting, I want you to be there early, before anyone else arrives, I wish to speak to you about a very important matter, alone, once you have rested."The king didn't eye Merlin, as servants were really not considered of importance, it was customary most of the times that a servant would be present when royalty discussed private matters. It was from other royals that matters were handled with more subtlety.

"Sure father, I will be there early."

"Alright, I will leave now, and let you finish your day's work, good night," the king gave a single nod at his son, turning his back almost simultaneously and disappeared out the door.

Once he was sure his father was out of eye and ear sight, the prince closed his eyes and sighed heavily, allowing his mouth to fill with the exhale, exaggeratingly overfilling his mouth with air.

When Merlin didn't comment with one of his enlightening speeches, the prince instantly knew that something had changed.

Merlin stood next to his bed, picking up the contents there, not caring if he once or twice dropped pieces to the floor. He refused to look at Arthur, who watched him with a bemused expression, wanting very much to burst out laughing, and he sure as hell could, but something inside told him that it wouldn't be a good idea to do so.

"Merlin," he called.

"Sir?" the boy replied.

"I want to tell you that I'm," but he couldn't apologize, because that would incite an explanation, and an explanation was not plausible, not for his servant. "You can leave that, I will put it away. You may go now." Merlin eyed him warily, Arthur could sense a question forming in his face, but the boy decided to not ask, directly walking towards the door instead. For once, not a single insult or remark spewing out of his mouth as he walked away.

"Merlin," the prince called again.

The boy turned, a tranquil expression in his face, "you need anything else?"

"Thank you."

The prince did not know where his sympathy emerged from, and was still thinking about the situation long after his servant had parted.

* * *

Arthur clutched something from underneath his pillow after undressing himself, making sure that the only source of light was a candle on his bedside table.

The small notebook seemed intact, as it should. There was a quill near somewhere, he knew, but did not bother to look for it. Instead he read through some of the pages. The hidden part of him, the one he allowed to present itself at varying moments, smiled at the writing there. The other part, the Arthur everyone knew, mocked him for such display of ambivalent character.

The monotony in his chambers was a perfect setting for his reading. It suddenly became the source of display. It was his own writing, and if not thoroughly of importance, the thoughts written lingered in his head, sometimes debating about his state of mind. Other times he just wrote about his day, not concentrating in anything in particular. It was the small, the unimportant happenings of his day that amazed him the most, from a piece of his clothing lain somewhere in his chambers, to the way in which the galloping of his horse made him react.

He knew that for him to keep such events recorded could signify something odd about him. But for Arthur, the way life appeared to happen, mesmerized him. It was beyond acknowledging pieces of fabric on the floor, but remembering what lead one thing to another. The cause and effect of what surrounded him. Everything and everyone a part of it, even if some he did not particularly like. And he countered that he did not have to like everything or everyone, if he did, he would never be prepared for his responsibilities.

Arthur had never dared to confide in anyone that he kept the small notebook. It was not a diary per se, because he wrote much more than what anyone could in a diary. And he knew that if anyone found out about it, especially his father, would think of him as weak.

It was he part of the reason Arthur had began with the notebook long ago. The prince did not want to mirror the hardened part of his father.

Remembering his father made him wonder what it could possibly be he would ask of the prince. A thought began to occur to him, but refused to host it for a long period, it wouldn't be a good an idea to dwell too much on the matter. If he guessed what his father wanted, he would act defensively, and he knew too well how that played out.

He placed the book back where it belonged, too tired to continue reading. He wanted very much to think about his horse ride this afternoon, but he knew that if he began to think about it, the same wave of uncalculated emotions would evade him again.

Arthur stretched his mind for a distraction instead, anything that wouldn't occupy a great deal of thought.

He began to wonder about the tournament, trying to think what strategies would work best against his opponents. Surely he would get far, if not for being the prince of Camelot, for all the training he's had over the years.

A soft thud on the floor distracted him for a moment, making him fumble his bed covers in search of what had been dropped. Arthur grabbed the candle from the bedside table, hovering around the room, pointing it where he thought the sound had originated. He didn't find anything of importance there, just a small wristband that had fallen from the table he'd set the armor on.

_Even when he's not here does he manage to bother me._

That was of course, irrational thinking, as it had been Arthur that one who placed the pieces on the table.

He stared at the wristband for a moment before placing it back on the table and going back to his bed. He thought about Merlin's expression earlier, well all of his expressions and couldn't help the way in which his lips curved upward. As much as he wished, he couldn't deny that there was some sort of audacity to the boy. The way in which he would stare at him sometimes, almost knowingly, it was disturbing as it was enthralling. Maybe if he weren't the charlatan he was, Arthur would feel genuine empathy for the boy.

The prince wondered briefly at his reaction after his father had left. Arthur had a difficult time understanding why he could get upset. It was simply an armor.

But then the realization hit him, Arthur lived for greater…things, for lack of a better term. His life revolved around different duties, far more important than worrying about the state of his belongings. Merlin on the other hand, what did the young man had? The simple recognition of his job must be all he is after.

And then there was that small part of the prince again, that tiny part of himself that suddenly made him feel bad for, of all people, Merlin.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, and once again, I hope you liked it.**


	4. Visitors

**CHAPTER 4 IS FINALLY UP!**

**THANKS TO THOSE WHO HAVE SUBSCRIBED FOR ALERTS :) **

**I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE REVIEW, CONCRIT IS ALWAYS WELCOME ****:) **

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_Ch.4 Visitors_

Merlin lay awake on his bed that night. The light breeze that filled his room made him sigh contentedly; his room had felt suffocating, and he welcomed the stream of air that swathed him. The spur of the moment feeling had him wishing, consciously dreaming. Perhaps one day he would be able to show his capabilities.

_No_ he thought, even when he allowed happiness to wash through him did he know that his wish would most likely never be granted.

He didn't resent it. Or rather he made himself believe he didn't so. He tried imagining what it would be like if everyone knew about his magic, of how much he would be able to help people. Then a thought crossed his mind. It was Gaius. The admiration he felt towards him was much like that of a son-father admiration. Not that he knew what it was like to have a father, but he thought that if it was anything close to what he felt for the old man, it was good enough for him. The boy considered Gaius' ways of helping people, none of which involved magic. Another thought ran through his head.

Merlin had to admit that it wasn't only for the sake of helping people that he wished for being able to openly use magic because he very well could without it. It wasn't for pride or glory either. He was confused about it. Confused because he didn't know the real purpose of his 'talent' and sure, he could trust the dragon to an extent, but he _felt_ there was something else. Perhaps to simply be able to show whom he really was. Lying was something he would have to get accustomed to, even if he dreaded what possible outcomes might result by that.

At that moment, the pout his lips formed exaggeratedly showed his disappointment. He was glad there were no witnesses. No need for anyone to laugh at him for his unconscious and expressive show of emotion.

For some reason, the night had made Merlin nostalgic, he suddenly yearend for the comfort of his home back in Ealdor. How wonderful would it be to be able to visit his mother, his home. Surely the small crops would be barren, showcasing the small village's greenery without obtrusion. It was this time of the year, when the few grains and vegetables were gathered and before winter would hit, that Merlin loved the image of his town the most. He found it perfect the way traces of brown began to slowly color through the leaves and grass and, when the fall finally bled out the green, brown and reddish dry settings remained instead, making him feel more home than ever.

He smiled at the memories, at the carefree state of his life just a couple of weeks back. Merlin could not believe he once felt that it was a dull life to live. He remembered the light breeze that would overwhelm him when he sat atop the hill near his small house, making him feel the world was small under his eyes. Of course, he know knew better. The transfixed state of his mind at the very moment ironically reminded him that it was not an easy life. He could dream all he wanted but if he wished to be a part of something _more_, and Merlin very much wished that, he would need to learn to do his part well. Whatever his part might be. He supposed he could start by figuring that out.

And then Arthur crossed his mind. Not because of any interest in particular, but because since the day he saved his life for the first time, the prince had become Merlin's point of focus. Something the boy was not entirely sure how he felt about, considering the prince's peculiarities. Merlin tried not to think about the series of events that had occurred just a few hours ago, and the more he tried to ignore them, the more pronouncing these thoughts became. The boy supposed he would have to think about it sooner or later, and he couldn't sleep either.

He mostly wondered about Arthur's behavior, part of which exasperated him. The warlock could care less about the fact that Arthur had taken credit for his work. Actually, he found it quite funny since he had used magic to help him clean the infamous armor. Had Uther known that –well, he assumed since Arthur had taken the credit, the king would surely not order for his own son's death, would he? And then there was that other part of the prince, the way in which he had become overly tense at the conversation with his father. The curious way in which Arthur had stared at him, and then avoiding his gaze to solely focus on what appeared to deceive his father. Merlin knew what he was trying to do, the prince very much wanted to win the tournament, it was practically the topic of conversation -it all revolved around it, the prince mentioned about it before the king had entered the room and if not directly, Merlin could perceive that he did.

It didn't matter to him of course, and he was not concerned, but something about their exchange intrigued Merlin. Why would Arthur try to deceive his father about something as simple as the visit of Lady Sophia to the extent of performing poorly on the tournament? It had seemed that Arthur was trying to not compromise with the Lady, and that was before the king had or could make any requests about it. Perhaps Arthur didn't care about the Lady Sophia in that way? Childhood friendships were completely pure, and perchance he wished not to taint it by a complicated and forced relationship.

Maybe the prince's heart and affection already belonged to someone else?

_What do I care?_ Merlin reprimanded himself for even thinking about it. It wasn't any of his business and what is more, he didn't give a damn about it either. The prince was selfish and arrogant, and he pitied any girl that would become involved with Arthur in _that_ way.

The sudden change of mood made him restless for the rest of the night. He fumbled in his bed, too tired and unable to sleep. It was until the late hours of the night, right before morning hit, that he swept into an unpleasant sleep.

* * *

"Merlin," the prince called at his manservant on the morning his guests would arrive, "What are you doing under there? I told you to keep the visible areas of my chambers spotless for the time being. You can focus to clean under my bed some other time."

The irritated tone of the prince made Merlin happy. Actually that seemed to be the highlight of his day. Since irritated Arthur was becoming a frequency he had not bargained, and not always by his own accord, it was an added bonus for the boy. "Sir, I am not cleaning under your bed, the fact that I'm on the floor, looking under it means just that, I'm looking for a sponge that I can't find."

"Why on earth would a sponge be under _my_ bed, Merlin? Isn't there an antechamber for that?" But he was already on his knees, looking for said sponge, his vision locating it further away from the two, against the wall on his bedpost and centered.

"I'm not sure, this is about the last place that had occurred to me to look, since I couldn't find it elsewhere."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking directly into the boy's eyes, a mocking but aggravated tone coloring his voice, "and you find it of outmost importance to search for a simple sponge to clean because say, we don't have enough around the castle?" he raised his head to the other side of the bed, noticing the room seemed to be in a stable condition, "don't tell me you have been wasting time looking for that instead of doing your chores Merlin because if you have I swear I-"

"You just saw for yourself that it is not the case," Merlin cut him off, a daring act that mostly not a single person got away with. He ignored Arthur's strange expression and continued, "Don't you remember the unnecessary piles of clothes that lay on the floor this morning? Or the mud your boots left on the floor last night?"

Arthur raised himself, staring Merlin down, hoping to intimidate him with his glare, but it seemed to be losing effect. "Idiot," he murmured, just loud enough for the boy to hear. "I am to meet my father about now, Lady Sophia and her father will arrive around noon today. Merlin," he pronounced gravely, "you must be at the main square at that time. As my servant, you must be present."

Merlin simply nodded his understanding, not bothering to look at Arthur directly.

The prince continued with his requests for the day, "when I come back later this evening Merlin, I hope for your own benefit that all of your chores are finished." He started to leave but turned at the door, addressing him again, "I honestly don't know why I keep you as my servant," he finalized with disappointment and bolted out to meet his father.

"It's not my choice of job either," Merlin called out loud, but sure the prince wouldn't hear him.

He gave up on the sponge, realizing that Arthur's words for once had some sense. There were plenty of cleaning materials throughout the castle. He came up from his position, feeling ridiculous for spending an unnecessary amount of time kneed uncomfortably.

The boy had in mind to change the prince's bed dressings, it would surely give the room a different aspect, a special point of focus, hopefully distracting the prince from any minor detail he might forget.

He began to pull the fabrics off the unmade bed, throwing them onto the floor. A particular stubborn sheet had got fixed between the mattress and the bed frame. The boy pulled with force, but the sheet wouldn't budge. Insistent on not damaging the fabric, he pulled up the mattress, struggling with its weight. When he finally had enough space to pull, he yanked the sheet away with force, making it fall to the floor with a sound too loud for any cotton textile, regardless of the force with which it was thrown. Merlin dropped the mattress confused at the sound and began to sort through the beddings, trying to find any pieces of fancy adornments that might be designed into the duvet, explaining the dull thud. But when he searched, he could only find simple patterns and sowings, not a single plastic or wooden material attached. He was perhaps being too paranoid about the situation, but if something had broken, it would be a very wise idea to find it before Arthur did.

Defeated, he removed all of the bed linen from the floor and placed it on a basket, hating himself for doing the task without being asked, as washing all of it would take hours. It didn't matter of course, because as long as there were clean beddings on the prince's bed, he would not bother about the ones removed for at least twenty-four hours. Then the compulsive prince would regard their absence and pronounce something about procrastination and of how delaying one's responsibilities only amounted to unneeded stress.

He turned back to stare at the naked bed, wondering what feeling the soft mattress might induce. He had never sat on it, being too afraid of getting caught. Instead, he proceeded to take clean beddings from a cupboard in the antechamber.

It was with these obligations that Merlin felt the need for release. The frustration within made the boy play the insolent fool around the prince -not in a hypocritical way. The boy knew his boundaries- that he chose to ignore them that was completely different.

Merlin would have once thought of himself as observant if it wasn't for the evidence that lay on the floor that counteracted his belief. When he brought the clean set of bed linens Merlin noticed a small notebook perched at the edge of the bed frame, one that he was completely and absolutely certain was not there just a brief moment ago. He took it without thought, realizing that this was the adamant object that had made the unnecessary noise to elevate his anxiety.

Despite his fear, and mostly mechanically, he sat on the bed, placing the linens next to him and opening a random page from the notebook. It read centered across a mostly empty page and with elegant handwriting,

"_In your light I learn how to love, in your beauty how to make poems. You dance inside my chest, where no one sees you…"***_

The quote sent through the boy waves of comfort and thrill at the same time. He submersed himself in the writing, allowing his imagination to take charge. He imagined being told this by someone else, or telling such sweet words to another. Merlin fantasized about the reactions, the smiles. And he smiled every time his eyes ran through the quote and he couldn't know why, but the boy felt as if part of it was happening inside his own chest.

At the bottom of the page there was a dedication but it was ran over by angry lines with black ink. He wondered briefly who could be the person the prince dedicated these thoughts for. It was comforting to know that at least he had pure benevolence towards the one he loved. Then again, those angry lines, little stabs of ink that seemed to have relieved the prince from his anger –what could those represent?

He didn't dare read anymore. The warlock knew that this was private and not meant for him or anyone else to read. The boy comforted himself by acknowledging that had he known it was a type of diary, he would have never opened the notebook. Still, Merlin could not help himself but to read through the same quote again, engraving the writing into his mind. It was a surprise to him to discover that Arthur was capable of producing such tender thoughts.

Merlin placed the notebook back where he assumed it belonged: between the mattress and bed frame. He wasn't sure where in-between it was exactly located, and the fact unnerved him a bit. Would the prince notice? The boy thought if changing the beddings was a great idea after all.

But he was already doing it, better to act on the latter part of his chore.

Once he felt he had relinquished to all his tasks for the day, the boy set out to meet the prince on the main square. He didn't part before appreciating his day's work. Arthur's chambers had certainly never looked as spotless. Merlin didn't take pride in that, however. He mostly felt that it would be the best way to have Arthur off his back.

The boy sighed, trying to not think about the activity that followed. If that night had indicated anything at all, it would mean that the exchange between both royal parties would be extremely awkward -and he did not desire to be part of emotions that were undoubtedly none of his business.

He was relieved when he got to the square as Arthur, Morgana, and the king had just gathered with the other servants.

"Look who's on time… for once," Arthur whispered to Merlin rather close into his ear.

It tickled the boy's neck, but he replied with the same sarcasm. "Well, we are expecting very important people. Besides, it is of utmost importance to show the proper respect to those who truly deserve it, _sir_."

"Indeed," the prince replied, taken aback by the boy's insolence, yet, as many times before, he couldn't bring himself to be angry with him. "Now shut up and try, as much as you're able, to appear attentive."

"Yes sir."

It didn't take long after their secret exchange for the wooden carriage to appear in sight.

Three more followed behind, all pulled by white horses. The only carriage that appeared to convey people was the first one however. The other all presented gifts for Camelot. Some of which Merlin thought to be a little standoffish, referring to the iniquitous decorations that were carved in single logs of wood, portraying themselves as deathbeds.

As the carriages settled before them, Merlin could sense the prince bordering on the edge of anxiety. He would have laughed if not for the seriousness of the situation.

An old man began to remove himself from the carriage, stopping at its entrance when he reached solid ground to offer a hand to his companion. She held his hand, lowering herself with a grace that even Lady Morgana squinted her eyes at the prospect before her.

"My dear friend," Uther offered with sincerity, "I am extremely pleased that you are here."

The man approached the king and took his hand. "We are joyful to have been invited, it will be an honor to see your son participate on the tournament for the first time" he replied earnestly.

The young woman stood by her father. Her blonde locks fell behind her back, leaving her peaches and cream round face exposed to the sunlight. She wore a pink dress, which accentuated the appealing color of her skin.

"Sophia, you look quite lovely," Uther appraised with a smile before turning to his son, "don't you agree Arthur?"

"Of course," said the prince smiling.

Merlin stared as Arthur took the Lady's hand for a brief kiss. He was uncertain whether his anxiety had completely vanished or if he was attempting not to show it. Whichever might be, it seemed to be working.

"It's been long," the prince said, "what have you been doing all these years?"

Before Lady Sophia could answer, Uther interrupted. "There will be plenty of time for you two to get reacquainted, now why don't you join us for a small feast?"

King Aulfric nodded with gratitude.

They continued their embraces. Lady Morgana and Lady Sophia in particular seemed to have remembered how much they used to enjoy each other's company. The two walked together in direction towards the Great Hall. Arthur fell far behind from the rest of the party, desperately trying to detach himself from his obligation.

Merlin walked behind the prince, everyone else but them had entered the castle, as if stalling would prevent from anything the prince feared might happen.

As they reached the entrance, a distant voice called for Merlin's attention.

"Merlin!" The voice of a man yelled.

The boy turned reflexively at the sound of his name.

Arthur turned as well, elaborating a speech about the boy's indolence. He came up to him, stepping one step under him, facing the boy, preparing himself to discharge the tension he felt from minutes ago.

But Merlin was not paying any attention to the prince. The boy was smiling ear to ear. He could sense Arthur's stare, and something in his eyes should have raised concern to him, as he wasn't sure why the prince was looking at him in such way. Merlin couldn't be bothered though. The sight of the young man who called his name was approaching by the second. He dodged the prince, meeting the other man at the bottom of the steps.

"Merlin," the unknown man whispered, smiling.

"Will!" Merlin exclaimed, inclining himself into the boy's arms, placing his face against Will's shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I am too," he whispered again, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too."

Arthur stood where Merlin had left him, except he was now facing the two boys. He had heard their exchange of words, witnessed their embrace.

The prince felt uncomfortable, and he could sense anger building up inside. Arthur was not entirely sure what could it be as any recall in his mind would do, and he could not liberally spend time trying to decipher it. He had been running behind as it was. Now everyone would notice his absence or make fanfare on his entrance. It didn't help that he needed a servant, one that was occupied with personal matters.

"Merlin?" Arthur called, irritation not spared in his tone.

The boy hesitantly turned towards Arthur. "Sir?"

"We need to get inside," the prince answered, sounding obvious at the question.

"Right," he said and turned back to Will. "Ask for Gaius and wait for me there, I'll come as soon as I'm able."

"Okay, I'll be there," Will replied, tugging at Merlin's tunic, making the boy flush with embarrassment.

Merlin turned towards Arthur, who had began to ascend the rest of the steps, leaving him a step or two behind. He advanced faster, enough so that the two walked side by side, forgetting about protocol.

"Sir?" The boy suddenly asked. They had almost reached the Great Hall.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"Why is it that I have to be present in the feast?"

Arthur turned his gaze towards him, trying to read into his question and wishing he could hold Merlin still in a way to get a better look, but he could only see innocence in his deep blue eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Merlin began timidly, sure that he was about to get himself in more trouble. "It's just that I am finished with my chores, and I was wondering if I could maybe have the rest of the day off?"

The prince, though he felt he should, was not angry at his request. If anything, he was stunned. Questions began to form at the tip of his tongue, questions that did not relate towards Merlin's obligations. But Arthur couldn't ask, the sole idea was preposterous. Finding a servant interesting was unheard of.

The young warlock waited, but found the silence of the prince as a no.

"I am certain you know the answer to your second question, Merlin," the prince responded after a moment. "As for your first one, well, it was you the one who kept me over there,"-he lowered his eyes as he said this, remembering the wave of anger- "and I am not about to enter by myself to a feast that has already begun."

"Couldn't you have advanced without me?" Merlin wondered out loud.

"I don't think you understand the importance of your position just yet. You are the prince's manservant, a royal servant if you will, you need to be wherever I request you to be."

"Very well," the boy spat, defeated.

Arthur chuckled in spite of himself. "And Merlin, after the feast is over, go to my chambers and prepare a hot bath for me, please."

The boy bit his lip, forcing himself not to show the angry pout that was trying to overcome his senses, leaving him with not choice but to simply nod.

Arthur noticed the boy's peculiar face expression and smiled. Merlin believed it to be a mocking smile.

They reached the doors and stopped briefly. Merlin could sense that Arthur felt nervous, but he couldn't fathom the reason. He was the prince for god's sake he craved the attention.

The doors opened, and thankfully, not a single person drew their eyes to either boy. Arthur relaxed his posture, directing himself towards the only sit that was available. Merlin followed, standing behind the prince, awaiting instructions.

The feast seemed to drag for Merlin. He watched the event through a haze in his eyes. It was difficult for him to concentrate on the task at hand when his mind was far away from the feast. Merlin was worried about Will's sudden visit. At first he could not locate any reason in particular but the selfish idea that Will perhaps only missed him. Then he thought about his mother. Could there be something wrong with her?

The boy took a deep breath, calming himself. No need to worry about speculations.

Surreptitiously, the warlock glanced towards Arthur's direction. The prince looked miserable, and it seemed to be his only distraction to have the boy come and serve him.

Merlin had to attend to Arthur's constant need to refill his cup, drowning himself with, surprisingly to him, water. The boy observed as Arthur paid little attention to the general conversation everyone else seemed to happily include themselves in.

It didn't appear as a surprise to Merlin that Lady Sophia and Arthur had seats next to each other. And while Arthur seemed to enjoy the Lady's company, his terse replies, his constant need to be reminded about the conversation, and especially his lack of attention- it seemed as if Arthur was only physically present, his mind far away from the feast. The prince's eyes would sometimes wonder far into a corner, getting lost in a transition there. Other times he would shift them towards Merlin, who wouldn't stop fidgeting. Their one thing in common being that both wanted nothing more than to be out of the room at once.

Once during the ordeal the prince smirked at Merlin, something at which Merlin replied by furrowing his brow, questioning whether it was directed towards him. Maybe the prince had begun drinking without him noticing.

After another short while of banter, the king raised his goblet and spoke, "a toast to our guests. Let their visit become one of great joy and productivity."

They all raised their goblets, taking the king's words as a time for dismissal.

Everyone began to remove themselves from the room. Both Lady Morgana and Lady Sophia left the room together, followed by Gwen. From the corner of his eye, Arthur could have sworn that Gwen had rolled her eyes at Lady Sophia. And Arthur knew this was improper, but for reasons probable and impossible requests, he felt eased at the insignificant and harmless action.

"Father," the prince called at the retrieving form of his king, "may I have a word with you?"

"Have you considered my request then, Arthur?" the king beamed.

"I'm sorry, that is not about what I wish to talk to you. First I wanted to thank you for not exposing any ideas this afternoon."

"You are welcome. I just believed it not to be prudent on my part, as our guests have just arrived. I _will_ make my ideas public, however, do not doubt that."

Arthur's spine went rigid as his father's words became a threat. The hole, the empty feeling in his stomach could not be but attributed to the betrayal he felt. And though he would have wished to challenge his father, he knew it was not the perfect time, and it was not where he originally intended the direction of their conversation to lead to either. Without a thought, he simply spoke about the reason he had called for his father, "the other day I went through the provisions for this winter."

"Is something the matter with them?"

"No, on the contrary, I say we have more than enough food to sustain all of Camelot."

"Good," the king replied, somewhat worried at the sudden concerned look in his son's eyes. It subtly reminded the king of the times Arthur had been ill as a child.

"In fact, we have enough that we might be able to aid nearby towns, the ones that barely touch our borders." He held his gaze with the king. This was not meant to be an easy conversation for Arthur, reason being that his father would ask something in return from him, to the extent of taking advantage of the good in the prince's heart.

And sure enough, the king saw the opportunity present itself and took advantage of it. "I will consider it, if you consider my plea, son."

Arthur's tone lowered an octave, he glared at his father and yet, he managed to appear respectful. "Like I said earlier father, your request is nothing short of outrageous, but I promise I will take it into serious consideration."

"Until then, let us not bring the matter into conversation any more then." And with that statement, Uther left the now empty room.

Arthur watched his father leave, not moving a single limb. It was after several moments that he turned his attention to his manservant.

"Merlin," the prince called.

"Sir?"

"Remember my request from earlier?"

"I do."

"Please attend to that, I have matters to take care of. I'll be there shortly."

"Of course, sir."

Merlin now watched as the prince left the room, staying behind so that he could muster the conversation between father and son. The way Arthur looked genuinely concerned about his people dazed the boy. A part of him wished he could have said something to him, comfort him in any way. Another part of him, the less noble one, strictly wondered about the situation between them. What could the king possibly want from his son to the extent of extortion?

He left the Great Hall, ready to attend the prince's request when he remembered his friend. He could try and risk going into his chambers and just make sure Will had settled properly, ask him if his mother was well.

_No_ he thought, placating himself for his own benefit.

Instead he walked towards the prince's chambers, worried about Will's visit. He could begin and attribute it to numerous causes. It was perhaps not just the cause that worried him, made the insides of his body constrict with longing.

Of course, the only cause he consciously ascribed this emotion was the forlorn sentiment about his home….

* * *

The sun was almost setting when the doors in the prince's chambers opened. Arthur looked awfully exhausted. He dragged his feet across the room, desperately trying to close the distance between him and the chair that was only a few more steps away. The manner in which the prince walked -authoritative and proud, regardless of his state- amused the boy.

The guilt had crawled back inside of Merlin, it had his voice coming short, he was afraid of speaking in shrills if he opened his mouth.

Arthur glanced in his direction, eyeing him, tentative of the sudden traces of respect as he saw Merlin incline his head infinitesimally at his entrance. It was the first time the boy had ever lowered his head at the prince's arrival. Arthur looked around the room, the bed not going unnoticed.

Merlin could see the hesitation in Arthur's eyes, but it wasn't clear, as pure fear took over the blue in his eyes. The boy wondered briefly at his reaction, having only but a second to process it all, because Arthur had composed himself in time, being oddly and cautiously polite to him.

"I see you do fear me after all, Merlin," the prince teased him.

"I'm sorry?" the boy asked, dumbfounded.

"Well I'm really glad that you chose to do as I asked, you saved me and yourself the embarrassment of further consequences." Arthur spoke too composed. It was clear that he maybe had rehearsed two conversations. One that would include all of his unrevealed consequences, and the latter being the one he had just given to Merlin. It would have proven effective if not for the fact that prince Arthur seemed distracted.

It was apparent because the prince's eyes shifted between the boy's and the bed. Something overcame him. It was more than fear. The undiluted embarrassment that now filled him, the thought of his _servant_ reading his notebook, knowing him in such a _raw_ way…

"It is my job," Merlin said nonchalantly, trying to appear unaware of Arthur's posture and mannerisms as he approached him.

"But you hardly ever do as you're told," Arthur accused with a husky grave voice, "What brought on the sudden grace of your obedience?"

Merlin quickly saw his way out. He would act offended. It is something that he would have done anyway, in a different manner. One in which Arthur actually knew he was attempting to be comical. But this would save both of them the uncomfortable and unnecessary time for explanations and reprimands. Possibly even Merlin's job.

"I honestly don't understand you, sire. I try to do my job in accordance and for some reason you seem displeased. Do you not wish for me to do as I'm told?"

But of course the prince was not an imbecile.

Arthur could sense some worry in the boy's eyes. Enough to drive him insane as Merlin constantly kept his gaze away from his.

It was a dilemma. Arthur could not ask deliberately about his notebook. Yet, the way he felt made him feel exposed in the most naked of ways. If he not spoke about it, he would forever think his own manservant thought of him as weak.

Merlin noticed Arthur's internal battle, unsure if it would be wise to interrupt, but he needed to leave, needed to talk to his visitor.

The boy sighed, pressing his lips in a hard line while pouring the last bucket of water into the warm bathtub. The silence and his unanswered question had him on the verge of panic.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" Arthur asked, forgetting his dilemma momentarily.

"Yes. Why, why do you ask?"

"Because honestly Merlin, this has to be the first time in which you have actually performed the duties of a manservant." Arthur was pleased to say the least. It was the reason that brought Merlin to do so that interested him.

The young warlock said nothing.

"Is it that boy from earlier?" Arthur asked persuasively, unexplainably becoming choleric by the thought. Merlin was not his favorite person, but he had to admit that he did not enjoy seeing him so concerned.

Merlin sighed again, and decided to spew everything off his chest. "To your first question. I decided the only way to have you stop constantly finding ways to take advantage of me would be to do exactly as I'm told-"

"It is-" Arthur tried to interrupt.

"To your second question," Merlin pressed, unaware that he had cut off the prince, "my friend's visit has me worried because I'm afraid it might be my mother that has fallen ill or something of the like. I was not expecting him, and I honestly hope he's only here because he wished to see me."

Well, almost everything. Merlin opted to not reveal his finding from the morning. It would likely explain himself further, but the reasons he gave were valid. Arthur did constantly overwork him.

"You think your mother is ill?" Arthur asked concerned, and ignoring the first part of Merlin's rambling to focus on the part about his mother.

"I hope not."

The unattached, the crude preoccupation in Merlin's voice made the prince's insides constrict uncomfortably.

"Is.. is your father with her?" he asked, suddenly wondering why he felt worried when he had matters of his own and much more pressing than a mere assumption.

"I never met my father." Merlin admitted.

"I'm, I'm sorry…" the prince told him, wanting to say something to make the boy feel better. "I never met my mother," he confessed.

Arthur felt awkward. It was no mystery that his mother had died giving birth to him, but this had to be the first time that he actually said the words out loud from his own lips to someone else. He had to admit that the words felt strange, foreign.

"I.. I know," Merlin said. "Gaius told me about her, he said she was very beautiful and unnaturally kind."

Arthur smiled, aware that Merlin, even though it was him who was worried by his mother, tried comforting the prince about his.

"Wouldn't it have been stupendous that some of her kindness had been inherited to you?" The boy continued, attempting to lift the sudden mood. It was unusual for him to be having a conversation with Arthur that did not involve the words _idiot_ and _clotpole._ It was different, but not bad at all.

"Idiot," the prince murmured, trying to hide his smile with a snicker. "So, you think your friend misses you and that it might be the only reason he is here?" He asked pinned by the same interest he felt hours ago, though he tried hiding it.

"Yes, well I hope so. It's been too many weeks since I have heard of any of them back home. I sure miss them."

"To undertake on a journey to simply visit one that misses you is certainly out of the ordinary," Arthur pondered out loud with no implications whatsoever.

"That is called friendship, a special bond between persons. I would have assumed that you of all people would understand that." Merlin suddenly wondered about the life of Arthur in previous years. Would there really be little to no one important in his life besides his family?

But Arthur had his mind racing back in time. The prince remembered the time Merlin saved his life. The boy seemed smarter than he looked, and he could very well have different intentions. He wanted to ask the reason with profound curiosity, but he decided it was not the right time.

"There is no such thing as friendship for me. Only allies and enemies; everyone that falls in between is considered a possible threat." He spoke with rehearsed words, clearly those of his father.

Merlin could see too. He was not surprised. The boy rather felt pity for Arthur. Especially because he thought that anyone who was capable of producing such discerning thoughts as the prince, he would definitely be capable of forming strong bonds with others.

"I don't agree," the boy challenged after a moment of silence.

Arthur stared intently at Merlin, shifting his eyes to fix them with the boy's.

When the prince didn't reply, the boy continued, "I don't believe that a person has to go alone through life thinking that no one is worthy of his trust. Why would anyone wish to accomplish great things in life with no one to cherish them with?"

The prince had his eyes completely caught in Merlin's. It felt as if he were staring into space, except he got lost in the depth of Merlin's piercing blue eyes, processing his words and trying not to agree with his reasoning.

He broke eye contact, and walked up to him, stopping at the end of the bathtub. "How old are you Merlin?"

The boy stood perplexed, wondered briefly if the prince had heard anything at all. "I'm eighteen," he answered, narrowing his eyes as Arthur took the information with surprise, "how old are you, sire?"

"I'm nineteen," the prince responded, feeling odd that he was talking to his servant, the single proper word _sire _bringing him back into place. "Go to your friend Merlin," the prince commanded, slipping a hand into the warm water.

"But your bath-"

"My bath is nearly done. Go to your friend before I change my mind," he interrupted.

"…Thank you," he fervently expressed gratitude and began to walk towards the door.

"Merlin?" The prince called after him.

The boy slowly turned worried that perhaps the prince had changed his mind. It seemed as if the prince could read his face, as a forming smile vanished as soon as Merlin began to walk defeated back towards the buckets of water.

"Stop," the prince commanded, making the boy stop in his tracks and focus completely on Arthur.

"What is it?" the young warlock asked, now worried that Arthur would turn this civilized conversation into something ugly.

"It's just that you speak with certain maturity. Your perspective is not the right one for me of course but, the insight itself is," he had quite a difficult time admitting this, "interesting."

Merlin's smile for a second made Arthur's world turn its light on, only to be shut back off by the idea that Arthur wished not to have it on, especially not by Merlin.

"I just said it was interesting, that's hardly a compliment," he scoffed, "now go before I truly change my mind."

With that, Merlin walked towards the door again.

"Merlin?" The prince called once more.

"Yes, sire?" the boy turned around again, no hint of amusement in his eyes as a splash of water from the prince's fingers met his face. It wasn't unpleasant, just unexpected.

"Be here early tomorrow." He ordered.

Merlin nodded and left the room pleased that he was able to successfully divert Arthur from his notebook.

Only thing was that Merlin was unable to place the sudden twinge of current that went through his body…

* * *

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	5. Vague Introspection

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* * *

_Ch.5 Vague Introspection_

Arthur stood at his window, arms resting on the windowsill and mind racing vigorously. The events that followed were nothing short of... strange by the most comparable of words. Arthur would have never believed that his life would entwine with such numbers of predicaments that it was becoming a tradition. It was difficult for him to cope with the knowledge of several of these happenings; too many turns and twists in such a short period of time. Firstly, he had trouble admitting to himself that were it not for his manservant, he would have met death three or maybe four times over. He'd stopped counting the minute he understood Merlin really did not seek any recompense for his trust. Still, the little tapping on his head gently reminded him that there was something odd about the boy, that it was perhaps more strange that he did not seek anything in particular. But as with many of his questions for him, Arthur learned to keep them safe in his chest, one reason or the other being the unfortunate cause to prevent him from unlocking the boy's secrets.

Perhaps Merlin was simply nosy? He managed to always be there at the right time and the right moment, uncovering important and reliable information for the prince.

The first example of this was the knight Valiant. The snakes that propelled from his shield's emblem during the sword tournament a lifetime ago had been a warning from Merlin. The boy had seen magic being involved with the knight's shield. Merlin even had presented to him one of the snake's head as proof. Arthur remembered believing him, even stood up to his father with no more substantial proof than the snake's head; Merlin's words being enough for him to believe. Of course, it was entirely different to Arthur's father. The rage that the sole idea of implying a knight involved with sorcery had brought Uther to punish his son with the most perishable of embarrassments, which was then passed on to Merlin, who had made the prince looked like a fool in front of the entire council and the knights from other kingdoms. Arthur never apologized formally, but regretted the hurtful words that slipped his lips that day –even knowing beforehand that Merlin was speaking the truth.

He considered comical how some of his problems happened simultaneously because while he was dealing with Valiant and his probable use of magic, there was also the Lady Sophia. Arthur was glad to say the least, that she was gone. Maybe, and he allowed himself to be -because he was a gentleman-, worried, as not a word from her or her father had been said or heard since their strange disappearance. Oddly enough, he barely remembered her visit and their conversations, most of which were awkward and short, not that he complained on that matter. The prince inwardly thanked training as an excuse to not compromise himself with Sophia more than strictly necessary. It still bothered him however, that the last he remembered before being informed that father and daughter were missing was waking up with a fever, Gaius and Merlin at his side, giving him an explanation that neither appeased his worry or really explained much at all.

Arthur could perhaps continue with his mental list, no doubt far from being completed. He was distracted however, when absentmindedly running a finger through his windowsill and noticed it came up smeared with build up dust. With no justifiable reason, other than to remind himself to later scold Merlin, when a thought flickered through his mind. It wasn't a very pronouncing thought, hell, he wasn't even sure if the correlation between the two was a mere coincidence. He was not sorting through events in a specific order, but suddenly a small uneasy feeling that had the echo of anxiety took a jab at him. Arthur Pendragon could not deny that no event compared to the time Merlin had been poisoned simply to prove he was saving the prince's life, no less. The sight of the dying boy before his eyes had Arthur's insides burning. The prince knew part of it was worry for the boy who had been slowly and against his better judgment, becoming acquainted to him. Other part of it was feeling it was his duty to save him at all costs, repay a little of what Merlin had done for him, the times the boy had saved his life. And then there was another part, similar to the one he carefully left buried within the most constricted parts of him -It was impossible for the prince to watch the broken boy laying defenseless on Gaius' divan and not feel broken himself. The way in which Merlin's features were smoothed by unconsciousness made Arthur's stomach turn uncomfortably - inexplicably not in an unpleasant way- and the chaos the boy's black hair was represented a reflection to the prince's state at that moment.

Arthur simply acted on the instinct of saving Merlin's life, risking his own to save the boy. Never paying any attention to what it meant for him to be doing so. The prince really did not want to pay attention to any significance at all, either. There were, however, parts of these occurrences that would not leave his mind.

And because he wanted to once again take the reins of his mental priorities, another thought he'd entertained before crossed his mind. The prince had long acknowledged that every single of these happenings had no plausible explanations- and that was after acknowledging sorcery being integrated into the endless equation. If he really thought about it, the way in which they happened around _him_, these events always seemed to have a particular factor involved. Arthur didn't really refer to the cause and the consequence of each, because in one or another way they meant harm for Camelot, for him. What he couldn't process was the force that drove maligns away. If luck could be a factor, then luck was always at his side, except Arthur didn't believe in luck- good or bad.

It was as if he watched through a thick fog. Nothing ever clear and as much as he tried to look around for answers, part of the fog had already vanished precious evidence. And every time he never felt thoroughly involved.

He referred to in particular, of course, to the time he went to that cave, looking for the Mortaeus flower that would cure Merlin. Death was right behind him in the form of a woman; yet, death did nothing, simply spoke about her lack of interest for him and disappeared into the darkness. He couldn't explain that light, one that appeared out of nowhere. How opportune and timely had it been; it was with no doubt from him that had it been not for its source, Arthur would have never come out alive.

As much a thought as he elaborated, nothing felt more frustrating for the prince than knowing how everything happened out of sequence from him. He might be part of a situation or even the center, but he only caught glimpses of what actually happened, of how a situation came to be. Plots and attacks never clear, explanations never complete. A complete and utter disorder all around.

He supposed that since some of it or maybe everything was against him, that it couldn't be possible to be in on a any given matter. Because really, he could be practicing with his knights, having dinner with his father, or simply retired in his chambers and news would reach him -if that courtesy was extended. Other times he wouldn't even see the blow come at him.

That's what prince Arthur referred to. There was always a part that never truly checked. Never locked into place to further his understanding. The frustration ate at him when he allowed himself to dwell on the matter for a prolonged period of time –he felt it was important to understand, to uncover anything possible.

One clear thing was however, how Merlin always seemed involved in some way. Arthur was not sure how to perceive this gesture. He was grateful, but something inside questioned Merlin's own sense of self-preservation. Surely Merlin had to value his life more than Arthur's; Merlin never hid his dislike for the prince and his continuous remarks on the opinions about him somehow answered Arthur's question.

Except that no matter how many insults were exchanged, –and Arthur was still unsure as to why he allowed them- Merlin was always at his side. Arthur would very much like to point that his servant's company in dangerous moments was dreadful, unrequested- but he knew that it was not true. It was as if danger triggered into Merlin competence in the most extended of ways. Unlike when a hunting trip was planned and the boy would often trip, complain, and slow everyone down.

_Great_, he thought, exasperated with himself for having kind thoughts about _Mer_lin, of all people. As if it wasn't enough that ever since Merlin informed him about Will visiting him _again_, somehow his mood had erratically plummeted towards the opposite of the current expected spectrum. Opposite because there were plenty of reasons to be gleeful about, like having been presented as the official crowned prince, heir to the throne. And even if he knew it all along, it had been a rather pleasant event. He could also mention forcing all those bandits away from Merlin's town in Ealdor, how joyful Merlin had been seeing his mother again, knowing that she would be safe once he came back to Camelot. But the memory was tainted.

In truth, he had not a valid reason as to why he disliked the boy's friend so much. Something about the way Will would look at Merlin however, was odd and…. Infuriating. Will stared at the boy with some sense of possessiveness, ownership, and… care. Sometimes Arthur would interpret it as if there was no one more important for Will than his idiotic manservant.

_His_ idiotic manservant.

Arthur was unsure as to why it meant something for him to have a claim on the boy. He supposed -reluctantly as he could- Merlin's charm was something that had gotten even to him. The prince would walk into other servants' conversations and if they happened to be about the boy, they would be something of the like, "he's such a nice young man, always trying to help others. He brought some sweets to our house when my little Lilith had fallen ill." Those were some of the noblest comments towards the boy; others were more like, "he's adorable. Something about those playful blue eyes that seem depthless, not to mention his disproportioned ears!" or, "skin like silk, I wonder what it would be like to touch his face, ivory and creamy. Oh and what a contrast it makes with his eyes!" All of the sudden servants had an expanded vocabulary?

One too many a girl fancied the boy, he knew, but Merlin never showed any interest in particular to any of them- not that prince Arthur cared in any way, in fact, he found it rather odd.

Those were only the servants speaking. When it came to royalty…. The comments were strikingly similar, if not superior. The most obvious person about it was Morgana. She rambled and rambled about Merlin as if he were part of her family, a brother with whom she reunited at last. The way she spoke about Merlin's well meant intentions, the innocence of his insolence, the personification of purity that was he. It had Arthur going mad for weeks, until he mostly shrugged off all comments and, since Morgana was someone he usually ignored, it was easy for him to shrug her off, too.

It was perhaps only Uther who had not been casted with the spell of Merlin's charm.

And that only left him.

Arthur really did not have a strong opinion about him. Neither did he felt he had to. Mostly he could agree to Merlin's underlying and extremely deep buried qualities, but he would rather call him an idiot more often than not. It gave him a sense of familiarity, a sense of pattern that although a bit strained, it worked for both.

The problem was however, the fact that he had spent _time_ on thinking about the whole ordeal. Merlin was just a servant after all. He was disposable, replaceable.

_No, _he thought suddenly, knowing for a fact that as much as he wished to be able to attest his previous thought as true, he couldn't.

The boy had somehow been capable of planting a seed somewhere inside of _everyone_ not just Arthur, and acknowledging he was not the only one somehow comforted him.

Which brought him back to where he had first started. Why he kept on deviating his thoughts about current events to thoughts of his manservant, he had no idea.

The contradictions were not even allowed to register in his mind, as his subconscious blocked them before becoming aware of a thought that might be erroneous and out of place.

He then welcomed the distraction that presented itself as a soft knock in his door startled him from his deep-delved reverie.

"Enter," he said, voice a little hoarse.

The slight relief at the distraction evaporated as soon as he saw it was Morgana entering the room. A sheepish and inquiring smile on her face told Arthur that whatever she was here for would be interesting or downright catastrophic.

" Morgana," Arthur exclaimed with mock enthusiasm. "What do I own the honor of your visit for?" He continued.

"You know better than to keep up with pretenses when we're alone," Morgana replied. Smile still plastered across her face.

"Fine. What is it you want?" Arthur conceded, though not entirely unkindly.

Her smile grew wider, assessing her ground and carefully measuring her distance with Arthur. "Do you remember the little bet you lost?" She said, leaving subtleties aside and wondering if Arthur would remember, or well, try to deny that he did.

For his part, Arthur knew exactly what she spoke about. It had been weeks since he had lost to Morgana. The prince was ashamed to admit that he had lost a sword contest they held in private. Of course, he admitted to himself as much as Morgana that he did not want to hurt her and essentially, that was the truth. His attacks were charged with much more care and tactic, with less impact and he cursed himself afterwards for letting the fact that Morgana was a girl to matter. She was capable as much as he was, even if not skilled and trained like him. Arthur had wondered why he had agreed to her request, knowing beforehand that he would never, could never bring himself to hurt her, but her defiant tone had triggered something- well his pride if he was being honest- in his brain. The prince briefly questioned why her insistence of waiting for her victory's reward.

He nodded.

"Wonderful. As you know, the only feast that I actually enjoy attending is coming in a few short weeks." She grimaced inwardly, remembering the other festivities that took place in Camelot, and could not help but be amazed the she lived under the same roof in which events of the like took place. "I require a new dress for that night," she went on after a few pause, "and for your great relief, all I'm asking as a payment for your defeat is that you personally seek for the fabric."

As easy and fair as it could have sounded, something in her tone of voice alerted the prince. "Why is it of utmost importance that I personally attend to your frivolities?"

"Because I know that you think to personally attend to my request is lowering yourself. When we have endless of servants and messengers that would do it." She smiled shyly, letting her answer sink in.

"So that basically translates for you wanting me to feel like a servant?" Arthur asked in response, not quite annoyed but ironically amused.

"Not quite. You see, I'm actually doing you a favor"- she held a hand up when she saw Arthur beginning to protest at the idea- "I'm not going to lie, at first the idea was highly entertaining, but I made my resolve by a much nobler reason, and I'm sure you'll manage to ow- I mean thank me for it someday." Morgana sat on the edge of the prince's bed, noticing the firm and annoyed expression he held. She laughed a little before continuing, "Yesterday I was dining with Uther when a messenger brought him a letter informing him about one of your favorite kinds of visits."

Arthur's expression shifted at her words. From annoyance to anger and to downright horror.

"I wasn't mistaking then," she said smugly.

"Father's planning _another_ visit by one his endless number of allies or friends with eligible adorable daughters, is he not?"

Morgana nodded, no need to discuss about the situation. Both very well knew how these events went on. The only exception had been Lady Sophia, though in one way or another it had ended all the same. Father, Mother and daughter leaving Camelot with high hopes of feigned return. The distinction was that Uther grew emphatically anxious every time a visit turned unsuccessful.

"You leave in two days Arthur. Lord Emerich and his family will arrive a day after you leave and by the time you are back, you will only have to put up with pretense for a few days. It's quite brilliant if I do say so myself." She finished quite more modestly than Arthur would have wanted. It was in her nature to be voluminously arrogant.

The prince stood, still unsure as what to say. He very much wanted to run towards Morgana and embrace her. Honestly, he believed that Morgana would account any debt as paid by that action if he ever allowed himself the weakness.

"Thank you," he settled for instead. Fervently enough, but with room enough to allow a sentiment, "I know I will pay for it with heightened proportions, but I thank you all the same."

"You're welcome. Isn't it ironic how you are paying a debt towards me to simply be more indebted to ...me?"

He sighed. Knowing that perhaps there would be plenty of other ways to go through with a similar course of action, but he knew this was planned to a great extent already, it would more than suffice. "I take it you have already spoken to father about it?"

"Of course, the minute I grasped the intention of Uther I jumped to telling him that you had lost to me and how I wanted you to pay up. He was reluctant at first, he didn't like the idea of the crowned prince doing a servant's work. Then I went about how it would serve you as a lesson to be more grateful with what you have."

Arthur looked at her for moment, something clicking in his brain. "What exactly did you tell father I lost to you about?"

She turned her face serious, slowly working in a devilish smile. "Well you know I'm nothing if not thorough," she kept her smile, slowly angling her eyes as to be looking Arthur under luscious lashes before widening her eyes and trying to control laughter, "I told him that you were unable of being nice to Merlin, and hinted that you take everything for granted, and needless to say, he agreed with me for the most part. That's mainly the reason he's not stopping you from completing your debt."

"I can't believe it. Even when you are trying to help do you manage to somehow lessen your good deeds."

"It's all about balance, Arthur. I know for sure that you wouldn't be able to be nice to Merlin anyway, I simply saved the time to prove that." She was grinning, she knew she was right, and to be able to be wiser than Arthur was all the more fun.

"You don't know that..." The prince began but, he certainly didn't know it either and he did not want it to become and actual bet between the two. He refused to involve Merlin in the situation and even if he warred with the reasons, they were not relevant to this conversation... "and I care less about finding out."

"Either way, there is no time for that, though it would have been highly entertaining to find out, don't you agree?"- She ignored the grimace that was thrown in her direction and continued- "like I said, you leave in two days Arthur. I should advice you to take someone with you, your manservant maybe, it will be actually a boring trip, since it is quite easy to look for what I need."

"I don't think it is any of your concern if I decide to go alone or take someone with me, but now that you mention it, I think I will go alone. I'm doing a servant's work regardless." He began pacing around, trying to find an excuse to have Morgana dismissed or to dismiss himself from the room. He was coming up empty-handed.

"As you please," she said, "I would have thought that perhaps Merlin would be good company. _I_ know that he certainly is." Morgana let the insinuation sink in, it was rather her trademark trait. It came natural to her, and as long as she intended on doing it for good, no harm could come out of trying to sow discord for a greater good.

"Morgana?"

"Yes?"

"Is there anything else of utmost importance that you must share with me?" The prince was now hinting at her.

"Fine," she retorted. The lady would have rather enjoyed the look of irritation from the prince for a little while longer, but it was enough for the time being. "I will tell you tomorrow exactly what you will be bringing to me," she grinned widely, sparkly eyes lingering around Arthur's face for a little more than necessary, when she was satisfied with what she saw there, the lady excused herself.

Arthur watched as Morgana walked out his door, knowing not what to think about the situation as a whole. The thought of running away like a coward was not something he was proud of, but he couldn't deny that not being present for the stay of his father's guests was an attractive idea. Arthur knew though, that his mind was set when a thought occurred to him; ever since his father began to arrange balls and ceremonies with masked purposes, Arthur had always behaved to meet all of his father's expectations. True, he always managed to diverge himself from his father's intentions and instead find a way to appear unappealing -something he believed to be quite difficult- to the lady in turn and things would pretty much work themselves out from there on. Would it be so wrong that for once he took the liberty and not deal with a situation that made him uncomfortable? What if for once he had the opportunity not to play the tortured man inside that had to display all smiles and politeness to the world. It was contradictory because he knew that as much as he despised himself for being tortured, it was part of himself that truly grasped what he was as a whole, which in turn made him even more flustered. Did he really hate who he really was? To all this, there was also the idea of traveling alone, and suddenly frustration began to work itself up right from the pit of his stomach and he wanted very much to kick himself at the moment. Of course the first person Arthur had thought of bringing along was Merlin. The boy was his servant; it was actually expected for him to be tagged along. It was Morgana's way of phrasing and her tone of voice that had the prince decide without thought about traveling alone. Her words caressed Merlin's name. The irritation he had felt came at him in long suffocating breaths, and couldn't help but wonder why he couldn't just tell Morgana that it was a good idea that Merlin accompanied him. He then remembered though, his pride was and probably would always be more empowering than any other emotion he might feel.

The prince walked back to his window, -the irritation that never truly left him working itself up again- spotting just the person he was looking for. There in the middle of the crowd was Merlin. To say that Merlin stood out would probably be overestimating the man at best, but the fact that he didn't get lost amongst the people spoke loudly about how Arthur view Merlin. Perhaps if the prince didn't know him, or maybe if the boy's ungracious ways didn't gave him away Merlin perhaps would pass unnoticed, yet, it made no difference to assume.

A few minutes later and Merlin entered the prince's chambers, unannounced and pretty much unperturbed by the idea.

"For the hundredth time, _Mer_lin," the prince retorted and as soon as he saw the boy the irritation ebbed away, "knock before you enter."

"I'm sorry, I just keep on forgetting." Merlin admitted with a sheepish smile.

"Well, try to begin to not forget. You know, at first I thought it was your little way of rebelling that I was royalty and you somehow held a grudge against that. Now, it doesn't even matter. It's the polite and correct thing to do. You have no idea what could've been happening. I could have been naked for all you knew." Arthur thought that perhaps schooling Merlin on rules of etiquette would never end, especially since the boy refused to put them into practice. However, as he tried to continue with his lecture, a look crossed Merlin's face that made the prince stop in his tracks before asking, "What?"

Merlin tried to repress laughter. "It's just that it's the middle of the day and don't tell me you go on and get naked on a regular basis because then I will not be able to contain laughter."

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, "I was merely painting a scenario, which wouldn't have mattered anyway because you would have found an excuse to blame me, the crowned prince, of being naked in my own chambers regardless of the time." Although Arthur wasn't necessarily angry, he was becoming a little intimidated and could feel heat rush through his face and before anything would show, he decided to address more important matters. "Did you get the horses ready then? I want to leave now so we can be back before the sun sets."

The boy, still smiling widely simply nodded and began to head towards the door, the prince right behind him.

Arthur was in a very good mood. He knew it had been a very good idea of his deciding that it was a perfect day to go hunting. It was barely nearing noon and the open sky seemed to welcome him into the forest. The canopy that sometimes felt like a nuisance now made him feel protected. And to add to his good humor was the fact that all of their trip Merlin had been extraordinarily quiet. At first, Arthur had been grateful for the change, and then after some time it became quite annoying.

"Merlin?" The prince asked.

"Hmm?" The boy responded distracted.

"Not that I mind, I'm just simply curious, but why are you so quiet? If it wasn't for your horse I might as well be traveling alone." It was eerie how true that sounded.

"Oh," he began, "um, I was just hoping I would be there when Will arrived in Camelot this afternoon." It was true, Merlin very much wanted to see his friend right away. What he didn't share with Arthur for fear of being ridiculed by him was the feeling that now formed in his chest. It made his breath hitch too quickly, and he couldn't understand the mixture of fear and anxiety when there was nothing he could relate them to.

"Oh," the prince responded. It was strange for him how that sentence shifted his entire mood, his entire character at the moment. For some reason, the canopy found its way back to becoming annoying as Arthur tried to peak through it, looking for the sun. He just felt he _needed_ desperately something to do; a way to find himself appearing unbothered by what he just heard. Though it made no sense, not really. Why it mattered he had no clue, and why he felt the need to appear nonchalant was an even bigger mystery.

But the boy somehow found that no witty remark and no insult from Arthur was completely out of character from him. It made Merlin wonder, not unlike many times, what Arthur was thinking.

"What? No insults and no twenty questions about why thinking of a person makes one go quiet?" Merlin teased.

Arthur shrugged. When he looked at him, pure innocence in his eyes, and if the prince didn't know better, he would have believed every ounce of it. "You already know I think it's too weird, the way you two are so close together." So Arthur tried to pry for information by appearing completely uninterested; it was brilliant, really.

Merlin arched an eyebrow, surprised by the insinuation. It was possibly harmless, but the implications behind seemed to be heavier than necessary for someone who acted like he only responded out of courtesy. The boy found himself answering these implications anyway. "He's my best friend. We grew up together and Will has always been with me when I've needed him…" he trailed off.

Arthur had heard this before. And to be objective he understood to an extent the relationship between both boys. He supposed whatever parts he might not understand were because of his lack of skills in the matter. "Yeah I suppose," he agreed. "It still doesn't make any sense to me though, I can't begin to comprehend." This was true, but Arthur would be damned if he was lying to himself and did not want to have a more specific term on the boys' relationship.

"Well," Merlin began, "It's much like yours and Morgana. You're not related and you treat each other with great familiarity and your father might consider her a daughter and even you might consider her your sister. It doesn't change that she is not related to you by blood but you learn it doesn't matter because there isn't a thing you wouldn't do for her because somehow she has managed to prove herself important for you." Merlin was not sure if his explanation was cohesive enough, and the mocking laugh beginning to tug at Arthur's lips left him unsatisfied.

"That sounds like your relationship with Morgana, not mine. She's evil you know," he said smiling.

Merlin simply smiled, but didn't say anything else for a long while.

When silence was becoming unbearable for Arthur, he interrupted it by tossing Merlin a bag, making the boy startle and almost fall off his horse.

"Hey!" the boy exclaimed.

Arthur chuckled, but only after the panic of seeing Merlin stumble ceased away. "You need to always be alert Merlin. You never know when something unexpected might happen."

"Apart from you, I don't see how anything can ruin this perfect day," the boy said, reveling on the deep breath that filled his body with the purest and freshest air he'd ever encounter.

The prince smiled. He couldn't deny that this was a really beautiful day and strangely enough, he wouldn't deny that part of this day being beautiful was the company he had. Of course, Arthur had come to admit to enjoying Merlin's company long enough, it still amazed him how character built, how easily the opinion about a person could change when learning enough about said person.

It was nearing sunset when Arthur decided that he was not in the mood to kill anything today. The day itself had turned productive enough when he learned that Merlin could in fact take an order and slowly retrieve his horse before the two would advance into a beehive.

They made their way back slowly, with no intention and with no real hurry. In turn, by the time Camelot was visible on the horizon, it was darker than Arthur had intended. The winter air around them colder than expected, and the tension that somehow made its way into Arthur's stomach was undeniable.

"Merlin!" an excited voice yelled across the field.

"What?" Arthur snickered hatefully.

It was all too fast, the chain of events that soon followed. Somehow what irritated Arthur the most was Merlin's face as he looked over in Will's direction, but he had little time to register that. They were halfway across the field when a screech threatened to deafen any creature with hearing capabilities.

Merlin was not oblivious to the sound and his instinct flashed directly to Arthur's direction. For some reason it wasn't important who or what was responsible for emitting the sound. Merlin only wanted to get Arthur out of the open, fast. "Arthur!" Merlin tried calling but it was no use, Arthur was already on his way back to the source.

* * *

Once again, hope you liked this chapter.


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